Perfection
by Sub-Zero879
Summary: Living in the vrykul-populated southlands of Northrend isn't easy for a wandering human. Having an unbridled fetish for miniature war goddesses made flesh makes it a bit easier. A short, M-rated ramble that is eventually human/vrykul.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** World of Warcraft and all expansions are the property of Activision-Blizzard, of which I am not a part of, and its intellectual property is used here for non-profit purposes simply to entertain.

So, I wrote a thing.

Actually, let's talk a bit about it. I was in the mood for something a little lusty, and I decided to make it about vrykuls, because snu-snu, so I took my fondness for the jotuns and scaled it up to an 11 for a full-blown fetish for the protagonist. Seriously, jotuns are the best fantasy race to ever have been overlooked by the mainstream. From brutally cunning human-like beings on par with the gods, to cunningly brutal "six-headed" monsters that modern "ettin" are derived from. Remember Utgarde Keep from Wrath? Seriously, look up the norse story that is based on. It's got Thor and everything.

That brings up another thing: Old Norse. It's in this story. And none of it is translated for your convenience. This story prompted me to start learning it (fuck genders and declensions), since languages and linguistics are my jam. That said, take none of my word for fact, since most of the dialogue was just shat out of google translate from Icelandic and given Old Icelandic touches ( _Ég_ into _Ek_ , _og_ into _ok,_ and though I don't recall needing it, case-ending _-ur_ into _-r_ where applicable).

So why untranslated? That's because I fully intend on the reader to understand what's said without needing a direct translation, or at least to ''get by'' as well as the protagonist does, whom really only knows the bare basics. And it isn't like vrykuls don't speak Common IE English as well, so I doubt it will _really_ be an issue. I didn't build a pillow fort with the sign ''No non-Scandi's allowed!''

 _A clarification:_

 _-The ON text has been simplified to not hurt the readers unfamiliar with accent marks or strange leters._

 _-Accent marks are gone. Víti into viti. Mín? No, it's min. I did this because I didn't even have the ability to type them until about halfway through the story, and most people won't understand them anyways. Just a simplification._

 _-Æ/æ has likewise been broken into ae._

 _-Both the thorn (Þ/þ) and the eth (Ð/ð) have been reduced to ''th,'' because that's how they're pronounced. I know it's not traditional, but it is, in my opinion, better. You'll forgive me if you catch a ''madr'' somewhere though, since I was told to do ''d'' initially._

* * *

Perfection

* * *

These were not safe times for the southlands.

Stifling a hiss, Aurelius let the arctic mountain spring wash over his tattered body, forcing himself further until the modest current was to his navel. Bracing his bare feet against the pebbles, he grit his teeth and submerged to his neck. Cuts and scrapes found cleansing at the heavy stream, but the icy sting was anything but refreshing.

The final step was getting his head under, so Aurelius did so without thinking. He returned with a gasp, setting upon wiping water and hair from his eyes. The numbness was setting in now. For a human in Northrend waters, that was worrisome, but he vowed to enjoy every moment that he was relieved of his aches.

Aurelius did not forget the reason for his many wounds, superficial as they were. More so than the teeth of frosty water, his fears were in the inhabitants of these woods, so while bathing was dangerously vulnerable, he left his weapons within easy reach on the bank. His long spear in particular rested with its shaft reaching out over the water.

Looking down, he sighed at the ugly bruises along his abdominals, no doubt aggravated by the gooseflesh and shivering. In younger days, the sight of clearly defined muscles might have given him some pride, but now the pale, nearly pasty-colored bumps only reminded him how starved he was out here.

His callused palm came to his left shoulder, where the ache was merely a mellow throb now. Very clearly, he remembered his awkward stance and panic as the dark iron hammer came for him, desperately turning with the blow to diminish what he could. An ugly bruise and a bothersome dislocation felt like victory, after that fight.

One more time, Aurelius dunked under the chilly stream, feet braced hard against the current. The gasp of his return was nearly instinctual; humans weren't meant for such temperatures. His hands swiped at his hair, knowing he'd need to exit soon.

"Hver thorir!" a loud voice boomed at Aurelius' back. He froze, stomach dropping.

Knowing an open back was the biggest mistake, he turned around, hands still on his head, to be treated to the sight of a fully nude vrykul woman similarly waist deep in the middle of the river, only a couple dozen yards farther along. She was a crimson haired warrior, the muscles clear on her glistening tan skin, with silver-blue eyes glaring beneath furiously set vrykul brows.

 _Oh, fuck,_ he groaned in his head. He swore he had checked the area before deciding on his wash, which means she had to have arrived after him. Thank the Light she hadn't noticed him in turn before she also entered, for an armored vrykul warrior getting the jump on him was a one way passage to a shallow grave.

Lurching aside, Aurelius got hold of his spear, yanking it free and standing where the water was only knee high. He'd stand no chance in deeper water against her, if he was to stand a chance at all. The presence of his own nudity registered little in his mind; already, his heart rate was accelerating.

"Human," the vrykul realized, sneering for emphasis. Her hands were empty, balled into vrykul-sized fists at her sides. A sweeping look saw that wherever she had left her things, it wasn't within similar reach for her.

Settled firmly into his proper stance, Aurelius waited for a tense few moments. It became clear, however, that the she-giant wasn't keen on charging his spear unarmed, leaving them in a stretching standoff.

Swallowing back the tightness in his throat, Aurelius tested diplomatic waters. "To make it clear," he shouted to her, "I was bathing here first."

Her dark-shrouded eyes had already acknowledged that fact with a downward glance, but her loathing expression was unchanged. In reply, she took two long strides towards him and bellowed, "Ek skyla drepa thik."

Aurelius' nostrils flared, and his spear point lifted higher, as if aimed for her midsection. "Not if I _drepa_ you first. _Ek drepa thik."_ Living here as long as he had, one learned the essentials of Vrykul. "Fara. Fara i frithi."

"Thu fly," she snapped harshly, taking another stomp towards him. The gesture sent a nearly distracting jounce through her naked breasts. Had this been any other situation...! Seeing his face, she clarified no more kindly, "Thu far."

Fly must have been another word for "leave." Well, that was no option. She would kill him as he dressed. Should he take his clothes and leave, and miraculously get through the woods without stumbling naked into a pack of worgs, she could as easily follow his trail and kill him the same.

Damn it, damn it. He did not want to kill the vrykul woman. Light, he had a borderline fetish for the half-giantesses! "Nei gott," he told her, shaking his head firmly. "Fara i frithi, ok ek fara." He took a step back to emphasis his point. They both could leave, in separate ways, for Light's sake.

However, her eyes narrowed dangerously at his retreat. Two more steps she took towards him, her lip curled distastefully, so Aurelius made a frustrated sound and stepped back towards her, spear still ready. Damn, but her strides closed their distance rather quickly. He was looking up now to meet her eyes, despite her being deeper in the river.

"Ek gaeti mylja thik," she growled, low in her throat. There was a pensiveness to match the words, though he didn't know their meaning. _Mylja_ was "crush," if that's what he heard from her though. It was difficult to hear through that tone.

Aurelius made an obvious sigh, then hardened himself and stared unblinkingly into her right eye. He abandoned trying their tongue. "If you come at me, I will kill you. Stand back."

Light curse the way those full lips of hers curved up in spiteful challenge, and with her chest puffed arrogantly, she took one more step towards him. "No," she answered. Her eyes glittered with dark anticipations. She _wanted_ to see how he'd respond. No fear of death would be found in those eyes.

Aurelius gritted his teeth, knowing he must be unwavering. His first chance at seeing a vrykul naked, and it was to be like this. Universal irony. Well, at least it made her black heart an easy target. Lip curling with distaste, he took another bold step towards her, then another, continuing until they were in spitting distance of each other.

Glaring up at her, he grated, "It's your move now, v..." The words died on his tongue. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one to hear something else in the woods, for the challenging look vanished from her as head turned from side to side, scanning the forest around them.

Aurelius heard it again: a wolf's howl. The sunken feeling in his gut was swept over by a new icy fear that had nothing to do with the water that numbed his feet. His wide eyes met the newly burning ones of the vrykul, then he shamelessly turned from her to stomp back towards the river bank.

 _Too late,_ he realized, stopping his shuffle in the water to find his stance again, now with his back to the giantess. All around them, on both sides of the river, dark shapes lurked in the underbrush. Some brazenly stepped into the sun, showing gold eyes and toothy smirks.

The worgen, with their new wolvar allies and pet worgs. One hell of a party to be faced with. Aurelius counted eight, ten, fifteen – at least twenty wolfish fiends waiting for him on his side of the river. The opposite side would prove no less.

"Not to interrupt," one black-furred beast growled out, punctuating with a snap. The alpha, Aurelius suspected. "But we want our meat fresh, without little holes in it first." Those gold eyes passed Aurelius, raking over the naked vrykul behind. The fanged maw stretched wider. "And this morsel is looking delicious."

Already pumped on the earlier adrenaline, Aurelius taunted, "I've got some scum on my boot over there for you to lick off, mutt. That's all the taste you'll be getting of us."

"Til Helajar meth ther, hundar!" the vrykul agreed with all her scorn. At least, Aurelius thought that was an agreement.

Aurelius began a controlled shuffle towards the shore. His eyes were upon the alpha. Still sneering, he promised, "Send all the pups you want. I'm not done until the river is thick with your blood."

The lead worgen continued showing teeth. "Kill the stray. Capture the bitch."

 _Dog-puns, hooo!_ Aurelius jived in his mind, as the first wolvar lunged for him. His spear took it through cleanly. He relished its high-pitched whine as he yanked back, letting the beast fall from his spearhead, and he lurched forward for a deep thrust, nicking one worg that thought to remain back in threatening pacing.

From the splashes behind him, he knew the vrykul was advancing to the other end of the river, a war shout on her lips already, ready to meet the orchestra of yaps and growls. Aurelius paid her no further mind, knowing he must first live through his own trials.

Stocky wolvar, swift and limber worgens, and harrying worgs all came for him. Aurelius was glad to already have had his spear, for his sword would be useless in this fight. Wide slashing motions kept them from crowding him, and the long thrusts continued taking the beast-minded creatures by surprise. When some got close, past the spearhead, Aurelius was quick to jump back, pulling his spear back until he held it by the upper portions, and he cut a throat at the cost of a bloody slash over his chest.

With fierce shouts and challenging cries, Aurelius took on all the fiends that came for him. A damned wolvar managed to sneak behind him and capture his calf in its fangs, fortunately absent of an additional weapon to shank him in the back with. His awkward slash to kill the bugger also clipped his outer thigh, but the wolvar fell back, minus its nose, and then Aurelius ran the thing through in a quick thrust, retreating swiftly enough to also capture the lunging worg.

It was quick and bloody, and Aurelius did not escape the better in it, but soon the beasts were retreating against the rude snaps of their alpha, giving Aurelius a chance to look back at the vrykul. His wide eyes saw her almost back on his side of the river, wading through in powerful steps, with her arms blood-soaked and matted with beast fur. Her face was a thunderhead. Across the stream, the surviving worgens and wolvar watched with withdrawn yaps, unwilling to follow her across.

Aurelius gestured with his left hand as he faced the leader again. "There! Take my sword!"

"I will feel their guts squish and bones snap!" she roared. The vrykul-sized sound send an instinctual tremor down his spine, but he didn't argue, instead focusing on the alpha in full.

A sound like a giggle passed his lips. The fear, the adrenaline, he couldn't help but laugh through his pain. "Your turn, mutt!" Aurelius shouted, beginning to advance. The bare-assed vrykul broke through the water line near the same time, passing him in a second and smashing her hand over a worg too surprised or frightened to flee. Blood followed.

One worgen pounced to intercept his charge. A slash knocked it aside, but Aurelius' momentum was broken. Three furred beasts descended on him, and they went down in a tangle of limbs and snapping maws. He lost his spear to protect his throat, then threw their pile aside to knock the beasts off him. He had barely made it to a knee when the full weight of a worgen crashed into him again, and he saw with wild eyes the fangs snap a hairsbreadth from his face.

Before he could really struggle, a red hand snagged the humanoid and yanked it away, terminating the motion against her other fist. There was a sickening snap, and blood dripped from those hands. Then the fierce vrykul woman jumped against three close-by foes, accepting their fangs in her skin. Aurelius saw the way to the alpha was clear.

The packleader noticed the same thing, and as Aurelius feared, he did not hesitate to get his own hands dirty. The beast was all muscle as it dove at him, stopping in time to avoid Aurelius' spearhead and thrust. It was around him in a second, then a hulking claw took Aurelius in the head, dropping him instantly.

Groaning, Aurelius rolled aside, too late to escape the follow up, and the claws gouged along his back. Crying out, Aurelius refused to give into the pain, and he turned on his knee with the spear ready, its butt in the mud. Reflexes acted then, as he caught sight of the worgen already upon him, and his hands moved on their own, guiding the spear right in its path. The sharp head took it in the chest, the beast's weight pushing the spear through the bone and into its chest cavity.

Teeth bared and his voice raised in whatever shout he could manage, Aurelius lifted the spear against the weight of his flailing ornament and tossed the dog towards the river. He moved to pursue, only for his wounded calf to flare up against his will and Aurelius fell back to his knee. He watched with blatant hate on his face as the alpha moved to rise once more. It barely had its torso up before the vrykul woman appeared suddenly and stomped down with all her weight against its broad back. There was another snap, and the worgen rose no more.

With that, the last of the pack made yelps and calls, turning at once to retreat back into the woods. That was the last they would be bothering their two this day. Not that they were a two.

Aurelius blinked against blurring eyes. He had a lot of new wounds, he realized. Maybe too many. His back was numb, despite knowing that he'd just been slashed along it. "Fuck," he grunted. His spear slipped through his blood-slicked hands. Aurelius noticed he was falling and stopped himself on his arm.

Shaking away his dizziness, his eyes refocused again upon the vrykul he'd just fought aside. Fought with? No, that was presumptuous. She might try to kill him now. He didn't think he had the ability to fight her off in this state.

The red-haired woman turned her head his way. Those eyes seemed bright with energy, still high on the fight. Her body followed her head, turning to face him in full, and she rose to her full height – shoulders squared, feet braced evenly. She was still ravishingly naked, tan skin slicked with sweat and flecked with wolfish gore. Under the overhead sun, her body shone magnificently. Her strong muscles tensed and flexed, her bare chest rising and falling with each short pant, her untamed womanhood a crimson snare between those powerful thighs.

"Perfection," he admitted despite himself. "You are... perfection."

His strength faded, his supporting arm gave out, and he fell face first into the trampled muddy bank. Such savage perfection, the amazones of fable, queens of warfare; Vrykul women – what lusty god out there thought crafting such women would be fair to the gentle sex of the other races?

Teeth gritted once more, Aurelius rolled himself aside, out of the mud. His vision distorted again, but the large shape of tan flesh and red trim filling his sight could only be one thing. His breath came as little pants, yet the feel that he was getting no air had him wonder just how much blood he had lost.

The large shape folded into itself, leading him to assume she had crouched down, before her voice washed over his wearied body: " _Hvath heitir thu?_ What is your name, little warrior?"

He wanted to answer her Vrykul question. He wanted to impress her. But he was tired, and it was a struggle to find the strength to finally say, "Ek heiti... Aurelius."

"Thu berjast vel, Aurelius."

"Hmm," was his eloquent reply. His adrenaline was dropping too quickly. Despite it, he tried collecting himself. Those mutts weren't allowed to do anything more than superficial cuts. Probably. He fought against the blurriness and was glad to see the woman focus in his view. Because what a view it was...

Realizing where his eyes lingered under her attention, he quickly yanked his gaze back up to her shining silver eyes. A merry gleam replaced the formerly dark look on her face. One red hand was braced upon her knee, and the other gestured loosely as she commented, "'Perfection,' _thu sagthir?"_

 _Light..._ Aurelius didn't know if he still had the blood left to blush, but he wanted to melt into the floor and get away nonetheless. Still, he was already here and his wounds said he was here to stay, so keeping his sheepishness to a minimum, he said, "Ja."

That arrogant grin marked her lips again. She made no further comment, only staring with those lively eyes of hers. It was a spell before the moment passed, then she looked down to his bloodied body and asked, "So are you prepared to treat yourself or must I watch a battle-brother bleed out today?"

Aurelius nodded, mustering his vitality once more. "Wouldn't live in Northrend if I wasn't." Battle-brother. Well, there's a thought. Stifling his weary groan, he pushed himself out of the mud to his feet, where he found himself only barely eye-level to the crouched giantess. She only watched him, offering no aid, as he gingerly carried himself back to the river to wash away the muck.

Compared to the last time, entering the water was physically painful. His body was already chilled from before, and his open wounds went kicking and screaming against the icy pressure of the current. Sluggishly, his hands swatted at the cuts, and quickly he was shuffling back towards his clothes and pack for his bandages. He heard the loud crash of the vrykul woman reentering the river, and a glance saw her washing away the red coat.

It was a fight against crippling weakness as Aurelius struggled with the frostweave roll, and his body shivered pathetically during it, but practice tempered his hands, managing a successful start and allowing him to wrap his chest wound slowly. The rake along his back he didn't have the ability to address specifically, but the enchanted cloth would work where it touched.

Through it all, Aurelius considered his little red vial – a potent healing potion that would fix him right up – but such things were precious and bandages much more plentiful, especially for his budget. He finished the last wind and tugged it tight, then tied the blue bandage.

When finished, Aurelius collapsed atop his clothes with a sigh, relishing the tingle against his red-hot wounds. He noticed his nudity without much concern, instead turning his attention back towards the river. His sword was right by his feet now. Should the vrykul still wish to fight, he might finally stand a chance now that he'd found treatment.

The woman stood still only up to her thighs now, observing him without a clue to her thoughts. Her fists and body were cleaned of the fight, apart from the little rips in her skin where fang or wolvar knife had taken her. The silence boded nothing good, however, and the sword by Aurelius' feet took a stronger presence in his mind. He'd prefer his spear – he almost always preferred his spear – but he would be ready.

Despite the tension and suspicions, the fact was firm in his mind that he was presently just staring at a woman in her nakedness. The heavy vrykul chest with wide, mahogany areola and swollen crowns took his attention, following each rise and fall with her breaths. He swallowed, not daring to slide his gaze lower to that ruby blotch lurking below. He felt she'd know if he did.

"Thu ert utlit konu." Her words snapped his eyes back to hers, where he found a catty twinkle.

 _I have 'something' woman,_ he translated sluggishly. _"Do I have?"_ he tried mentally completing. Uncertainty on his face, he answered, "Nei?"

The vrykul laughed. The suddenness of it surprised Aurelius, as did its pleasant and genuine sound. Her chest shook and bounced with each guffaw, until she calmed enough to ask with teeth showing, "Skilurthu?

Bewildered by the reaction, he said, _"Nei._ I really don't think I do understand."

Eyes still bright with mirth, she told him, "You have the look of a woman, and you said..." She broke off to snicker again. Aurelius flushed at it.

Embarrassment quickly gave way to defensiveness. "Well, there are humans that think you look like a man."

Wet, crimson hair shook with her head, and her snigger remained. "You lie. You called me perfect." Her hand went to her hip ostentatiously, her ego clearly in vrykul proportions.

Aurelius' eye followed instinctively, then hesitated there as his heart fluttered. He spoke while still in the moment, dragging his eyes right back to hers to say, "That's because to _me_ you are. But other men prefer their women small, demure, and round with ample curves. They'd call me queer for my taste."

"All humans are queer. You especially," she scoffed, no less amused. Her hand went off her hip as she waded through the stream for two steps, finishing on the bank beside him. Her arms remained at her sides, leaving the whole length of her in his view. At this angle, her head was only visible between her abundant breasts, where she had to lean a tad to even see him.

Aurelius resisted the urge to gulp, aware of his sword as ever. It would be a narrow dodge if she tried to stomp him like the alpha earlier. At least his fear would prevent his manhood from rearing an untimely head, for he was given an eyeful he'd never forget.

A new taunting smirk was on her lips, noticing his anxiousness. Her powerful thighs flexed on either leg, and her toes waggled, but she didn't attack. _"Yngvildr het, Aurelius._ Remember it. _Muna Yngvildr._ Today we fought as kin, so I will forgive you for following me in my bath. The All-Father's _bolva_ falls upon whom slays a battle-brother, after all. Next time, I will see our bodies clash in steel.

"And perhaps then you will have the courage to challenge "perfection" for her arm." A final look with that serpentine smile, and then she turned on her heel to march away, towards wherever she had first come from.

Aurelius watched with a pounding heart. She was an image with each step, a firm backside sculpted by a god whom did not work in halves. One word echoed in his head: Yngvildr. Her name.

He was left alone with a score of bloody corpses.


	2. Chapter 2

Aurelius turned his attention slowly, keeping form with his spear. His breathing was audible but steady, contrasting the loud panting from those that encircled him. His armor's integrity remained, reminding him that these invaders were western harpies, not the shrieking she-beasts of the north. Those had skin like stone, bones like iron, and claws like swords, a fight Aurelius did not think he could win with so many stacked against him. The western breeds, however, were little more than woman-shaped raiders of soft flesh and hollow bones.

If only there weren't so bloody many of them.

The witches came again, and so he plunged forward and took one clean through, throwing her light body backwards with a cry then spinning to slash at those that pressed towards his back. Another was too slow to dodge, and the spearhead gouged deep against her uncovered breast, pouring red harpy blood over her stomach and sending another scream ripping through the dusky sky.

"Kill him! Kill him!" they shrieked, but all those that tried failed, whether he stuck them or their claws raked uselessly against his reinforced leather breastplate or shoulders.

He yanked his spear from the latest assailant, falling back into his same controlled stance, and he said in a tight voice, "I can do this all day, vultures. Get the hell out of-"

A magic stormbolt smashed against his chest, nearly managing to unsteady him. Emboldened by the attack, more harpies swooped in, and Aurelius only managed to dig his spear into the side of one before they were upon him, talons slashing at his uncovered face and neck. One witch grabbed his spear, trying to wrest it from his hands.

Aurelius let it go at first chance, using his arm to protect his face while his right hand dropped for his hunting knife. Talons dug at his shoulders; one harpy grasped his arm and tried to lift him up, off the safety of the ground. Then he got the knife free and stuck the closest screaming banshee. His arm remained near his face as he stabbed and slashed, turning to get those behind him away as well, until he had a safe bubble around him again.

A warm sensation along his face told him that he was wounded. Fortunately, it didn't drip into his eye, so he had full vision of the many avian pests still encircling him. A flash of light warned him just in time to dodge another barrage of spells, and he used the momentum to jump upon one harpy and plant his knife in her chest, right between her breasts. Her same gasping breath out turned into a vicious bite that nearly took his nose, but he swept back just in time.

Giving another glance around the area, he found his spear discarded a few yards away, slanted atop one of the harpy corpses. He dove to retrieve it, only to be hammered at the side by another stormbolt and stumble awkwardly. The horde descended upon him again.

When it was over, only five of the nearly twenty-five harpies remained flying. They watched him with unmasked hatred, most sporting cuts or slashes, but they no longer moved to attack. Aurelius remained on one knee with his recently recovered spear, glaring back with steady resolve.

"You will regret this, human!" one cawed to him, her pure-white eyes hot.

He snorted. "It's you who will regret coming this far east. Nothing but a weed strangling the land, and I will uproot every bloody nest you set down."

With a final shriek, the spellcaster turned away to retreat, and the others followed. Left behind were the few remaining sisters, grounded by injuries, and they cried out futilely for aid. The battle was over, which left the worst part for Aurelius to take care of. He counted at least seven still moving, and one had little more injury than a broken wing, stumbling around on awkward legs.

With a soldier's heart, Aurelius found his feet and made his rounds, one by one plunging his spear into the open chests of the survivors, while the walking one grew increasingly frantic. When she was the last, Aurelius stepped off the latest and watched her for a lingering moment.

The woman kept looking back at him and attempting to go airborne, only to flinch at her broken wing and crash down awkwardly. Her legs were slow and clumsy, clearly not used to supporting motion. He was reminded of his first encounter with the avian scavengers, unfortunately also his first sight of a naked woman – grimy and repulsive with their gore baths and disease nests. "Please!" she cried. "No!"

Aurelius waited. He asked, "You would beg for mercy, witch?"

"I beg! I beg!" she whined in their raspy voice, her back against a wide pine.

Wiping the blood from his temple, Aurelius knew what should be done. If he let her go, she'd recover and be right back with the others. They'd celebrate his foolishness and attack all the more fiercely. She was nothing more than an animal with her back to the wall and would say anything for the chance to live her miserable life for an inch longer. But while she was an animal who lived on mere instinct, he was not, and foolishness was a human triumph.

He allowed a shred of mercy for that half-starved and pleading creature and waved her away. "Go back to your filthy nests and horrid mistress then. And when you return, greedy for blood again, I will finish what started here."

She cawed loudly, eyes still wide, then turned to continue her slow lope away from this bloody meadow. Seeing her speed, Aurelius wondered if she'd even make it back to the harpy camps or if a hulking grizzly would tear her soft flesh apart. If she made it back though, he wondered if she'd be smart enough to leave Howling Fjord or if she'd still be there when he or others like him found the nest and exterminated it.

With the last harpy gone, Aurelius was quick to make his way over to the previous clearing, where three vrykul hunters were laid out in blood-splotched grass. Each was raked and torn, clearly victims of the harpies, and unlike a swift and nimble human, the giants were unable to escape the brunt of their thousand cuts.

Aurelius found that he was too late. All three hunters, both women and the man, already perished. However, before then, he saw that one huntress had crawled with the last of her life to the fallen male, so that their hands could clasp in their final moments together – a touching display of affection that Aurelius didn't think the vrykuls had in them. Clearly, the two had been partners. The third, however, died alone, left propped against the same tree Aurelius had seen her against before he too was attacked.

Also pelting the clearing were a dozen other harpy corpses, more mangled and disfigured than Aurelius' spear could manage. The vrykuls hadn't died easy, but the numbers and their size were against them.

With a drawn sigh, Aurelius planted his spear butt like a walking stick and slid down until he was squatting in a field of corpses, staring at nothing. In his mind, he saw the harpy-vrykul war continuing, exactly like this. The winged blight would expand just as it did in the southern world, filling diseased nooks wherever could escape immediate notice – and once the nests were found, it would be too late to drive them completely out. Vrykuls, so big and strong, would fall like oaks to a thousand cutting winds.

Looking at the vrykul corpses again, those two clasped in death, he wondered how the vrykul clans would consider such a loss. Would they be happy, to die in glorious combat? Or would they spit in the face of their deaths at being laid low by such inferior enemies?

A sick, wet cough sent a tremor through his spine. His head jolted back up, looking around without avail to find its source. The tiniest twitch snagged in his peripheral, but when he didn't see anything behind the dead huntress against the tree, he allowed himself a tiny spark of hope and jumped for the 'corpse.' He'd actually checked the vitals of the two on the ground, but for her, he had only assumed by her state and no breath...

His fingers grasped the bloody vrykul chin and tugged her head up to see the face. Just barely, he saw her pale lips tighten with pain, and her nostrils had a little flare from her nearly breathless exhale. "Damned hard to kill, aren't you?" he uttered, amazed, as he unclipped his health potion from his waist and removed its seal.

It was a struggle with the weight of the lax head as he fought to feed the vial mouth through her lips without spilling. He managed, along with forcing her to swallow. The tincture worked like magic; in only seconds, the whole blood-slicked face grimaced, and soft blue eyes opened with a confused daze.

"Haegur. Thu ert i lagi," he told her.

The dark rings painted around her eyes dominated the look as she squinted at him. "Your tongue is shit," she drawled softly, with bits of blood seeping past her lips.

Aurelius managed a bark of laughter. "I know." It was a relief to hear an only mildly accented Common. Many vrykuls, due to long exposure and trade with the earthen, spoke the language as easily as their native Vrykul. "But seriously, take it easy. You were an inch off death."

One large first clenched and unclenched. The huntress had a scowl, but not for him. "Another potion. I need-" A rough fit of coughing seized her.

Aurelius was already digging through his bag. He pulled out a thick coil of blue. "What you need is armor that doesn't shred like parchment to a harpy's claw. All I've got for you is this though."

It took another squint to realize he had a heavy bandage. "Helviti," she groaned. When her gaze was back on him, she asked, "The harpies, they are near?"

"And dead," he agreed, pushing the roll into her open hand. She looked at the weave with a grimace.

The dark-ringed eyes flicked back his way. "Who else is with you? Skaldjr, is he..." Her voice trailed as her attention went past Aurelius, to see the dead lovers. She snorted angrily but showed no mourning.

"Just me and my spear," he answered anyway, unsure of how to fit his tone to her mood.

Her heavy gaze fell back on him, searching. Then, "Show me."

"First, fix yourself-" he tried to reason, only to be spoken over by her louder voice, "First, show me." The bandage was shoved back against his chest. With a growl deep within her chest, the woman pushed herself up, using the tree as support when she could until she was back on her feet.

Her palm fell on Aurelius' shoulder, and he could feel her immense weight bearing down on him as she prepared to use his smaller body for support. Aurelius looked up to her face, saw the strength and determination, and he resolved himself to the same. He lifted his spear and began to lead her to the clearing where he'd confronted the harpies.

Blue feathers were the first appearance, showing individually on the ground before they showed on fallen individuals. At the last tree, the vrykul huntress eased off his shoulder to rest against a pine. She laughed as the many corpses were revealed to them – at least a score. "Ha-HAH! You magnificent bastard! I don't know how you puny humans are so damnably _good_ at killing things, but on this day, I only celebrate it!"

She finished with a triumphant cry, which ended with her sprawled back on the forest floor, having pitched hard with all that mass. Aurelius was at her side immediately with the bandages, frustrated that she hadn't listened. The blood-soaked woman saw their return with a wrinkled nose and eyes that weren't fully focused.

"A shame none were captured," she drawled, sounding breathless from her fall. "I'd feast to a show of you breaking her with your cock."

"You're becoming delirious," he assessed, trying not to react to her comment. He chewed his tongue regardless. "Let the bandages fix what they can, then we'll get some food in you."

She looked like a woman eating a lemon whole – just bloodier. "Fine." Her right hand seized a handful of her shredded leather and mail top and ripped the whole piece clean off her torso in a shriek of metal and ripping. Aurelius' eyes bugged at it, more at the feat than the decision. She slapped the ruined armor onto the grass, seeming indifferent to her raked and bloody torso being exposed.

The two plates on her thighs followed, but she grunted and said sullenly, "The pants must be wrapped around. Just be quick with it. Bandages make me feel _eins og vithkvaema blom."_ She showed her fist and teeth. "I am not."

Aurelius held out the coil for her. "Better a precious blue flower than a wilt. Or dead." The bared chest did not inspire him like Yngvildr from months before; in her current state, her fat breasts were carved up like a turkey dinner and turned his stomach at the grisly sight.

The larger woman raised a blood-caked eyebrow at his hand. "Am I the deluded one? I can barely move, _halfviti_. Wrap me up tight like you're taking me home. I want my tits pretty again after this. But leave the arms – new scars will do good back home."

With a swallow, Aurelius made forward, stepping between her parted legs to lean towards the huge torso. Even seated, she was eye-level with him, which only emphasized her scale. He started the bandage at her left side, then considered just how he'd manage to get around her. Fortunately, the vrykul wasn't oblivious, and she held the start against her side with her elbow. Aurelius started high, feeding between her breasts and over her right shoulder, then stepped over her big thigh to loop it down her broad and torn back back under her left arm. Pulling tight, be began to wrap, starting below her breasts and winding up. Navigating around her size was a bother, but he raised no complaint, knowing his brief need here.

After the torso came the legs, then the nicks where her midriff showed between top and pants. She scoffed when he criticized her attire, saying the massive buckle plate that covered pelvis to navel protected what mattered. It was over in minutes, and she ripped away the blue wrappings as quickly, their stored healing magic expired.

Revealed beneath was wholesome, untorn skin – free of even scarring – although she maintained a healthy coat of ruby vrykul blood. The giantess beheld herself with a frown. "Like a slaughtered cow. Oi, human, if you wash me clean, on my honor I won't tell. I will keep your pride intact for all humans and vrykuls, and I'll even give you-"

"Done," Aurelius said immediately, then bit his cheek against his sudden blush. He didn't mean it to sound _eager._

Those grimy brows pinched. "You don't even know what I was going to give you."

"You can keep it," he replied.

After a pause, she asked slowly, "You would do slave work for me, just like that?"

"It'd be my pleasure. Seriously."

The huntress squinted at him for a span longer, then shrugged her wide shoulders. "By Bor's beard, you humans are strange. Well, I have debt to you, and my gratitude is only rivaled by my confusion."

With his heart beating hard, Aurelius dug through his backpack for a rag, a pot, and water. Filling up the pot, he dropped the rag in it and wrung it out. Crouched there, he looked up at her eyes and asked with a dry mouth, "Is it so strange?"

One shoulder shrugged again as she leaned back on both palms. Her red chest was given further emphasis. "You saved my life. I expected you to demand recompense or service. Instead, you are being soft. It has me nervous."

"Well, I mean it- and you..." Aurelius sputtered out, then bit his tongue, his cheeks on fire. Explaining it would be a mistake, he knew. "I like vrykuls, alright? Let's just leave it there." He stood up and brought the drenched rag to her forehead, rubbing off the dried blood.

She remained still for it, but once the rag passed her eyes, a cleaner eyebrow rose inquisitively. As he scrapped along her temple, she asked, "So you would have given Skaldjr a little rub down too?"

"Hell no," was his dry remark, remembering that to be the fallen male hunter. However, his comment raised a sly smile from her.

"So you like vrykul _women,_ you mean," she assessed, sounding amused. Aurelius' face heated again, and when her mouth opened to add another teasing line, he wiped the rag over it, stifling her deep words. "Oi!" she complained. She glowered as he got the last dried streaks and war paint from her cheeks, then moved down her throat.

Her head shook a little as he started along her right shoulder – truly, her armor had been useless to the harpies, for the blood was omnipresent. "First you are afraid to touch me," she drawled, and he could feel the vibrations of it through her skin, "then you trip over yourself at the chance to do so. I think this knot has unraveled itself enough to understand." One big vrykul finger poked (or jabbed depending on perspective) his chest. "You're a fairy."

He stopped at the jolting poke, now stared bewildered at her cleaned face. "What?"

"You are a fairy disguised as a mortal, and you are planning on stealing me to your fortress for all those wicked fairy acts."

"I'm a bloody human," he retorted.

"Ah, then you must love me."

"Absolutely not. I don't even know you."

Her eyes squinted suspiciously at him again, cleaned of the dark rings. "Sacrifice?"

Ragged clenched in a fist, Aurelius admitted in a frustrated blurt, "You're beautiful – you and every other damn vrykul woman that trains to fight. Always pretty and fit and mixing strength with femininity and you're just perfect. Twelve feet of perfection. That's why. Because I find you impossibly, irresistibly attractive."

When he finished, face burning with embarrassment and his heart hammering, he saw her continuing that cockeyed look. "I'm still thinking fairy," she said.

Aurelius sighed heavily, then found himself laughing. Rinsing the blood-soaked rag out, he resumed rubbing her down. "Yeah, that's me. The bloody fairy of the flaming woods." In petty defiance and with bright red cheeks, he began a thorough job of cleaning her large bosom.

"Tell me about the Flaming Woods," she asked as he did, sounding genuinely curious. "Do all fairies fight as you do?" She gestured towards the field of slain harpies, where the first of the carrion were landing.

 _Light,_ he groaned inwardly. He said nothing, watching his work as each stroke of the rag revealed creamy skin from under the red and dark grime. His heart started to beat faster, fully aware of what he was touching. Cleaning the underside was the most embarrassing, as he needed to lift her breast to reach, and he did not easily forget the blazing warmth or silken softness of her skin after.

To control himself, _all_ parts of himself, he was quick to move on to wiping along her ribs and stomach, focusing intensively to keep his eyes on task. When he reached her waist, the vrykul turned slowly on her still-wounded arms so he had access to her back. She sat with her back straight, no longer leaning against the tree. He continued.

"My name is Brynja," she announced. "What's yours?"

"Aurelius."

"Hmm, a fairy name," Brynja murmured. Aurelius raked the crimson rag down her back, shaking his head. He noticed her shoulders pinch back like it tickled. "Earlier, you spoke our tongue. You are trying to learn?"

"Just enough to know the difference between "How are you" and "I will drink from your skull,"" he said, glad to hear a normal question from her.

Her straw-colored hair bobbed as she nodded. "Your words are coherent, but you have what we call a lazy mouth. Your sounds are all wrong. Your mouth must be active; your lips must guide the words like your hand does your weapon, otherwise you speak only shit."

She looked over her shoulder at him, blue eyes captivating. "I can teach you."

Aurelius smiled but continued his work. "I appreciate it, but we don't have the time. You must warn the others of the harpies, and after, no humans are allowed in proximity to vrykul territory."

"I must hurry to give my kin the burial of fire, you mean. You worry about those shrieking vultures?"

"Yes," Aurelius answered shortly. "And you should too." The rag dragged over her right hip, over firm obliques and hard bone. He was almost finished.

Brynja scoffed. "They are weak."

"But they are many, and they reproduce faster than you can imagine. If they capture a man, a nest can breed over a hundred more in a week. Soon, food will become scarce as they feed their numbers, and the vrykuls are big: you will starve first."

"We will eat the birds then," she laughed. "We vrykuls need a good war to thrive. We welcome their incursion with glad hearts and sharp steel."

Aurelius worked mechanically, his thoughts deep in his memories. "What happened today to you and your kinsmen will happen again and again in the coming weeks. The vrykuls must take the initiative or you will lose."

"Bah, with the snare of sleep off our bones, you will see we vrykuls won't be defeated so easily, human. Take my word on it."

He said nothing to refute her, only continuing his task. Shaking off the thoughts of the dark future, he focused again on the mostly clean vrykul torso. Her natural skin was fair as snow and marked with vrykul strength and the leanness of an active hunter. Her naked back was a pleasant sight now.

As he finished up with the smudges that hinted to have slipped past her pants' waistline, Brynja used the discharged bandages to tie up the rends on her arms. She wanted them to heal and scar naturally but clearly knew better than to walk around with open wounds.

Finished with her back now, Aurelius moved onto her arms, and she held it out for him to carefully work his way along the limb, without disturbing the bandages. He used two hands for it, one to steady it and the other to wipe. In short order, he had the final bits of grime washed away, and the ruined rag was tossed into the pink water of the pot.

Brynja looked at herself with a critical eye, smiling at what she saw, then paused and said, "You missed some on my chest."

Aurelius flushed at his mistake and wrung out the rag once more, moving back to her front. Perhaps he had been more handsy than thorough after all. Beholding her front was certainly a different experience now from when she had ripped off her armor. Her fair skin seemed bright, pale enough to show faint blue veins along her breasts, and was contrasted only by the shadows along musculature and small rosy nipples.

Realizing he was staring, he looked for the blood. Unable to find any mar along her upper chest or beside her bosom, he looked to the breasts. Finally, he asked, "Where?"

"Look harder," she drawled.

Aurelius reluctantly dropped his eyes back to her chest. He physically moved to the side, trying another angle unsuccessfully, but he concluded he had actually done a fine job at cleaning her skin. Her expectations of some kind of 'spotting competence' only bewildered him, and the more he looked the more he only stared at her shapely breasts and tightened nipples, moving with the rise and fall of her breath. His face began to flush despite himself.

A sigh joggled those breasts and sent a sudden reminder of his task. "Just wash my tits again, and you're bound to get it." Aurelius looked back to her face, and she raised an eyebrow in response. "You said you were glad to help."

Aurelius shook his head. "I just don't see anything." But he brought the cloth back to her chest, wiping over her breasts as per her word. It wasn't a request he would refuse, anyways.

"You don't see anything?" she asked in that same lazy drawl, except now with his hands on her, his spine tingled at it. "Or just nothing amiss?"

The inflammation in his cheeks felt perpetual. He was unsure if he was hearing her right. "Nothing amiss," he answered, nearly stuttering. He took his time, being careful, but feeling self-conscious with her eyes on him, he remained stiff and as indifferent as he could.

As he started on the other, Brynja shook her head finally and consumed his hand in hers. "Right here, Aurelius," she said, dragging his hand back until it was over her nipple. She imitated his washing motion, in firm circles. Aurelius swallowed thickly, acutely aware of her hot-skinned hand over his, of his palm pressed flat against her breast, of her dragging that coarse cloth suggestively over her nipple.

He stood there, stunned, as her fingers tugged the rag away but left his hand pressed firm against her skin, now just caressing her breast. His deer-like trance was only broken when he felt another hot touch, against his forehead, and he saw her lips withdrawing. Brynja had a mischievous smile, nearly laughing at his expression.

She left her chest pressed against his hand and her hand heavy over his as she said, "Your words before, they were kind, and the vengeance for our defeat, it is beautiful and merciless. I thank you, Aurelius. If your words were true, I hope this look and this touch captures for you some of my pleasure." Her soft blue eyes were electric now. "I _would_ also thank you for saving me, if I was not so furious that I had to be saved by a human."

After one last squeeze, Brynja's hand took his away, and she leaned back, releasing him. That wicked amusement still marked her face, as Aurelius' hand slowly curled with absent memory. He blinked at her, and his tongue refused to work at all. Brynja laughed. "Truly, you humans are strange, for a pair of tits to make you speechless. I almost wish our men were the same."

"I...m just surprised," he managed finally. "I thought- you... fairy?"

Another peal of laughter shook her heavy chest. "Your hungry eyes had a different kind of lust to them. It was enough to think you really did consider me perfect. It is a good look from a man." Brynja reached her arms out and arched her back, stretching – and when his eyes dipped instinctively, she found another smirk.

Finally, the vrykul huntress began to push herself up, ascending to nearly double Aurelius' standing height. "Before I return home, I must know..." Aurelius, still blushing, looked up to her sly face and waited. "If I asked of it, would you worship my body? With words, flesh, and heart?"

"Now you're just mocking me," he accused, turning away from the buxom vrykul to dump his bloody pot and began packing it away for travel. "Goodbye, Brynja."

"That's not a denial," she said, laughing against his back. "Fine then. But Aurelius, next time I see you, I expect you to answer that question."

Aurelius had enough of her banter, however. He cracked, "What makes you think there will be a next time if you keep getting yourself killed to every harpy you stumble upon?"

Turning his head, he saw her smirk and lively eyes. "We will meet again, Aurelius," she vowed. "On my honor, we will meet again."

"Under better circumstances, I hope," he said, finally shoving his pot back inside. "I'll look forward to it, Brynja."

Silence followed his words, which seemed unusual for the huntress. Looking up again, Aurelius saw the vrykul was already gone, with no trace of her in sight. He concluded she had done one of those hunter things to vanish and collected his spear, preparing to move on. The harpies approached. He needed to respond.

When he was finally ready, his mind flashed back to Brynja and her "gift." An embarrassed smile passed his lips. Shaking his head, Aurelius made forward once more.


	3. Chapter 3

The near future proved Brynja's prediction true. Swiftly and terribly, the vrykuls rose to the harpies' challenge, and they reminded the winged wretches why it was that the southlands and Icecrown were picked clean of their taint. The Gjalerbron clan was largely responsible, holding closed the passes on either side of their mountain with ever vigilant watch, while the strong Winterskorn raced the Dragonflayers to see whom could capture more blue-feathered slaves. What began as a blood orgy ended as just an orgy, and so Aurelius recalled their repulsive culture and the reason he would not integrate with them.

He sat in the Rivenwood now, twirling one blue feather after what had been the last engagement in the vrykul-harpy war. The battle hadn't required his intervention, and so he watched a modest vrykul war party clash with nearly a hundred vultures and end with barely three giants dead. Hunters picked off those that tried to flee, until all were dead but the dozen or so the vrykuls grabbed hold of as their victory prizes. Half of those captives were missing limbs, cleaved away by heavy axes, and vrykuls bantered over whose catch was prettiest and would sell the most. The wingless matriarch, the last matriarch, was a contender.

Sitting now in that battle's aftermath, Aurelius wondered what to think about the harpies and their subsequent treatment. As a race that reproduced by capturing and raping men, then fed the new young with the bodies of those men, it was an ironic punishment. The vrykuls would rape them regularly, and the quickly born young, Aurelius was sure, would be eaten by the vrykuls while still in their eggs. Poetic. And horrible.

A raspy voice startled him out of his reverie: "You... You are the one." Aurelius' neck snapped back and his spear was clutched at the ready as he found a living harpy approaching him with wild, white eyes. He turned himself fully, raising to one knee as he bore the spear between them. He saw this harpy was alone. "You are!" she gasped, stepping slowly towards him on grounded feet.

"So its not over yet," he said evenly. "The vrykuls will be pleased."

"Mercy!" she hissed back, and her weak legs bent in a gesture familiar to a bow. "It is over. It is all over. I am the last." One winged arm was awkward, but still she brought both before her in a mocking plead. "You gave me mercy once, and my sisters gave me exile. Now I am the last. I beg for mercy once more."

Aurelius moved the spearhead aside, reducing his threat as he regarded her with a narrow gaze. "You are she that I...? You actually lived?" The one harpy he let free, returned alive after the massacre. It was nearly unbelievable.

Her eyes were still wild, and he wondered if they were somehow more desperate than when he let her go. It was an animal gaze from an animal girl. She rasped in that ugly voice, "I feasted on the warm blood of beast and fowl. No upright walker. No humans. Give me mercy, human."

Aurelius heard her words absently. "I'll give you mercy enough to leave, harpy. Flee to the coast and fly home, if you want to live."

Her legs shuffled forward. "No home. No flee. The giants will catch me, cage me, eat me. You have mercy. Give me mercy."

He regarded her warily. Her words were probably true, especially if she still had not recovered. "What would you have me do? Take you home like a pet?"

"Yesss," she rasped, shuffling closer. He was tempted to raise the spear again. "A pet. Res'sha can be a dog. I can catch food and bring it to your feet. I can bark and howl. I will do anything."

What words, from this creature! Aurelius had little love and little patience for harpies, but he said, "That is what you offer, but what is it you _want?"_

In the following silence, Aurelius noticed the harpy was panting lightly. Was that her fear showing? She still behaved as though an animal backed in a corner, ready to throw her all at any chance of escape. But what escape did she see in him? Certainly, she couldn't be expecting patronage. Not a harpy, not from him.

Finally, the stammering harpy- Res'sha. Her name was Res'sha. Finally, Res'sha found herself and took two more pitiful steps towards him, scant inches from his spearhead, and she fell to her knees before him. Intense milky eyes held him as she finally found her words:

"Save me, human. Save me, and I will do anything for you."

The arms that held the spear began to waver. _She just had to say it,_ Aurelius groaned in his head. Finally, he lowered the spear entirely. Knowing already his answer in his heart, he said brashly, "No. You harpies are cunts, and you brought this war on yourselves. Your forsaken race is not worth sticking my head under vrykul axes for."

Her panting was growing audible, and Aurelius witnessed a tremor sweep through her naked form. "Mercy," she repeated. "I beg for mercy. Mercy. _Mercy_. I feast on beast blood and fowl flesh. No humans! Give me mercy!"

Aurelius only winced at her repeating cries. He didn't like it one bit. Harpies were repulsive, vulgar creatures worthy of no respect and capable of no trust. However, he already knew his answer in his heart, and her pleading voice was simply grating.

"If I agreed to help you," he told her. He doubled up the emphasis: _"If_ I were to try, it wouldn't be with some dirty animal at my side. You will bathe and clean yourself. You will wear clothes, something to cover you up, and you will act civilized when you eat, when you speak, when you sleep. I don't want a pet, nor a slave, nor hampering baggage. You will be a person, or as close as a harpy can get to one. And as soon as we both agree that you are safe, you're gone. Is that clear?"

"Anything," she choked. "Anything for hum- Caw! I will do anything you ask."

Some part deep in his gut told him this was a mistake, that he was an elven literature hero taking his first step towards his tragic downfall. But he stood to his feet and held his spear upright, and his hand extended to the kneeling avian woman. "Then you will call me Aurelius, Res'sha, and you can consider yourself under my protection." _Light help us._

Slowly, with several owlish blinks, the harpy reached her uninjured talon-like hand towards his. As she lingered and hesitated, Aurelius finally grabbed her hand and elicited a gasp as he pulled her back to her feet. She didn't take well to be touched, quickly retreating a step, while Aurelius' hand felt grimy just from that contact.

Nose wrinkling, he said, "The first stop is the bath. After that I'll make you some clothes out of an animal hide or frostweave." With a gesture, he turned from the feathered battlefield, marking a mental course back towards the stream he had last camped at. At the foot of the hills, the water fed clean, and the trees around it grew thick and close, giving reprieve from roving vrykul warbands.

The journey to that nook proved a sluggish one, moving at a lame's walking speed. The sun seemed as patient, crawling slowly across the sky, and dark refused to come until they were arrived and with dinner killed and brought to camp. Aurelius spoke as he worked, calm but drab, like he was educating a child that wasn't his. He washed his hands before preparing the meat and explained why. He did so again intermittently and after mounting the game on a spit, while Res'sha watched on with dubious eyes but an eager heart.

Harpies were all but immune to disease and infection. He made clear the fact that few other species were as lucky, so for his sake, she must keep the same hygiene. Similarly, meats must be cooked, and he showed her how to build a proper fire. With her broken wing, it may be some time before she tried it herself, but the avian women was quickly entranced by the warm flames, and he knew she would want to learn.

Once the food was sufficiently seared, Aurelius broke the spit to let it cool and ushered Res'sha towards the river to wash. He followed suit.

Following the harpy naked into the water, time finally seemed to catch up to Aurelius. Perhaps the intense start of the day, watching that titanic clash against the last harpy incursion, had put him in a strange trance. Perhaps it was his mind finally coming to terms with the bizarre situation he found himself in, harboring a species he so loathed. Whatever the reason, the hard facts began to register in Aurelius' mind, and his attention moved in real-time once more.

"Res'sha," he called. The woman turned, her white-eyed gaze keen even in the night. Standing there on the edge of the stream, Aurelius felt something slowly crawl up his spine. Despair? It couldn't be. "This isn't going to be easy."

Standing thigh-high in the waters, Res'sha held her chest up proudly. Her voice was different than it was in the clearing, which felt like minutes ago. Now, her voice was steady, and the raspy air was almost clear: "Of course it is. All we must do is listen to what you say."

A laugh slipped past his lips unintentionally. "Just like that?" he asked rhetorically.

Her head cocked, like the bird she was. "Just like that," she agreed. Turning away, her feathered arms spread out, her good claw raking gently across the water top like she was drawing shapes. Aurelius took one step after her; the cold disheartened him, but the harpy spoke again: "Right now, I will bathe, because you asked. Then we will eat burnt flesh, and later we will sleep in human nests. And Res'sha will listen to Aurelius, because Aurelius is strong, and because Aurelius has save me."

Aurelius didn't feel strong. The horrible scars along his body, puckered and glowing in the night's ghost-light, were a display of his mistakes and weaknesses, all gathered here in Northrend. He wasn't big like a vrykul nor hardy like a dwarf. However, was that how the harpies saw him? A powerful, unstoppable warrior, because he slew twenty of them by himself? Is that what the worgen thought after he turned them back, or the iron dwarfs, when he shook down the walls of their bunker for attacking him?

His steps into the water had firmer resolve, and he stared the naked back of the harpy. She was very lean, starved even, and her bones made the deepest impressions along her snowy skin. When she turned profile, her breasts made only a faint outline against her ribcage. Skinny, weak – the opposite of the traits he found most attractive in women. Her words pounded in his head, the promise of anything. Call it selfish, but he had something.

"I want you to eat," he found himself saying. She turned fully, the blank eyes unreadable. Some said the womanly shapes of harpies were to lure hapless men into their clutches, a predatory survival trait. Res'sha's slim, girlish frame failed this task. "Eat to grow strong. You _will_ civilize your mind, but your body you must make utterly _savage._ Do you understand what I'm asking?"

There was a sound from her throat like a coo. "You want me to be like you."

"I would see a hawk grow from a vulture, a falcon from a crow. Where we go, there can be no feasting on weakness, no exploiting opportunity. Only strength and the ability to wield it. The hard times are before us; a waif has no place at my side."

Her blue-crowned head bobbed at his words. "I will eat and I will kill at your word, Patriarch."

"My name is Aurelius," he remanded, wading to her side in the clean water, "and you will address me as such."

Another bob. "As you say, Aurelius," she hissed. Though it lacked the title, he could hear the subordinate regard from her – the very same reserved for their monster queens and brutal mistresses: the Matriarchs.

"Good. Now wash, quickly but thorough. I will help where your broken arm can't reach, and after we will splint it."

Res'sha began immediately, dipping herself in a flitting motion then rolling her feathered arm against herself like a scrub. It was different from himself, who used his hands, but it seemed to be working. As she worked, she asked, "What is "splint?""

The question raised several realizations about her and their situation. Res'sha would be ignorant of things Aurelius took for granted, things not intuitive to creatures of instinct. He might be explaining new things for their entire time together, so long as he wanted her civilized. Also, that Res'sha even asked said that she was curious, that she had some desire to learn. That was good.

"A tool to help you heal faster," he said. "It uses wood and twine and... stuff, to stop you from hurting it." He also realized he wasn't very practiced at explaining these things.

Another amicable bob followed, but she mentioned, "You humans wear many odd things."

"And we're better for it," he retorted, then dunked himself under the furiously cold water to scrub the grime from his face.

When they finished – when Aurelius deemed Res'sha clean enough – he had to stop the harpy from diving right in to the warm meat and dirtying herself again. He was firm in having small slices cut to be eaten at a time, to contain the mess to their hands. For her first few bites of cooked meat – probably her first time ever trying it – she lamented how _dry_ and disgusting it was, despite Aurelius managing a fine medium-rare.

Despite her complaints, Res'sha was quick to realize the whole animal was for only them two to eat, and Aurelius would swear he heard a faint cooing from her around halfway through. Harpies must fight in the frenzy for each bite of their food, she told him. This could be three day's worth in her life under the Matriarch.

Aurelius finished eating first and cut the rest of the meat up for her before returning to the stream to wash his hands and knife. He had skinned the beast beforehand, and he wanted to set up the leather tonight so he could work with it in the morning. Res'sha watched him with content and lazy eyes as she nibbled ceaselessly on the rest of the food.

Once the stands were up, he commanded the harpy back to the river to clean herself while he set up his cot. Her return reminded him that he only had one cot in the first place. "Well, fuck."


	4. Chapter 4

_Diabolical Pie: I hate to self-shill, but you might like Rennah more than this, since that's an actual human/harpy exploration._

* * *

A week after meeting, Res'sha's wing healed enough to remove the splint, and she could fly for short bursts without pain. It was another week before she was able again, and it was then that Aurelius charted a path for them north-west, back towards her arctic homeland.

Following their journey north in those days was nothing short of a frivolous slaughter. Beasts of ground and sky could be found ripped apart and discarded, only some actually eaten, but of increasing size the further north one looked. The bloodshed was at Aurelius' command, splitting their day time to send Res'sha after tougher and tougher animals to test her claws against. The birds he chose were faster and fiercer each new day, testing the limits of the harpy's aerial swiftness. The beasts he chose had tougher hides and stronger fight, until her claws were shredding iron carapace as well as his spear could.

At night, Aurelius spoke of manners and etiquette, as well as he knew it. In truth, the harpy adapted the behavior well enough by the time her wing was healed, and they spent the fire-side nights asking questions. Aurelius was disappointed to find harpy-life balefully dull and predictable, but she was rapt over details of human cities, buildings, and accomplishments. The culture, she had no vested interest in, but every harpy, she said, saw the formidable stone wonders raised by humans or orcs for their communities. She admitted they thought magic was responsible for the construction.

Aurelius was meticulous in keeping their duo from vrykul notice, going so far as to preen Res'sha of loose feathers and bury them after each meal they stopped for. It wouldn't do to have the savage peoples thinking there were more harpies roving about, even if there were many slaves that could have been responsible. He steered clear of their villages and known hunting grounds, and like this they had almost made it through the pass west of Gjalerbron without issue.

They remained close to the fjord edge, in view of the frothy ocean. To their east was the mighty peak of Gjalerhorn, misty and frosted almost down to the pass they traversed. There were no trees at this part, but the first forest of Grizzly Hills was visible on the horizon already.

Res'sha was growing antsy over the last bit. All the slicing and use had grown her talons thick and strong, and she was fond of cutting up tree branches and slashing bark with them to keep them sharp. The claws weren't her only improvement over the weeks; true to the sudden surplus she was eating every day, the harpy no longer looked like a feathered skeleton. She had a real mass to her that demonstrated fitness, and her flying arms were noticeably stronger to support her heavier weight. Twice already Aurelius even had to stitch a new top for her, after complaints that the old one was too tight.

Stronger and faster than any of her sisters before, Res'sha no longer needed Aurelius to see her home, he knew – didn't need to share his food, didn't need to cram in his own bed, didn't need spend long hours explaining things every man, woman, and child already knew. Yet he said nothing on the matter and kept walking.

Res'sha flew low beside him, sheathed in a tight leather top and skirt – the only articles that would fit around her wings and feathered tail. With a sidelong glance, he asked, "When you leave me, how many of the things I taught you will you actually retain?"

There was a pause before her answer, telling him it was something she hadn't yet thought of. Finally, she admitted, "I don't know. I can promise you that _clothes_ will not be one of them, and I will relish ripping apart a fresh kill with my mouth again. And you have me talk, talk, talk, talk until my throat hurts. With my sisters, there isn't much need. I miss having a real nest. Your... cot is like clouds, as if I'm about to blow away at a strong wind."

A quick burst of flapping took her in front of him, so that Aurelius stopped. Res'sha had a certain look on her face, but it was difficult to make it out with her bouncing between each thrust of her wings. "Truthfully, Aurelius," she continued, "many of your things are strange for me. I don't like "civilized." But with you, I... Caw! You make a better Matriarch than Matron Arcticgale, Aurelius. I would..."

Her eyes dragged behind him, then widened with anticipation. Aurelius was already turned as she hissed, "Vrykuls!"

Aurelius saw them, a dozen marching towards them with those long vrykul strides. Fully armored, weapons drawn. A small raiding party, only a little over a hundred and a fifty yards distant. With a curse, Aurelius grabbed his spear from the loop on his back and held himself in front of Res'sha.

"Go, fly over the ocean back home," he shouted. His heart was beating fast; he was good, but not twelve-against-one good. His head turned back to the harpy. "You are strong enough now to keep yourself safe. Avoid Voldrune, and after that you are clear."

"I can kill-" she started to argue, but he roared, "No! They will kill you! You came to me for safety, and I'm keeping my bloody promise. Flee, Res'sha."

She made a loud caw, and there was _emotion_ in it. Finally, she nodded sharply, ready to listen, but she said, "Aurelius... Thank you."

He managed a weak smirk. "Never could say "no" to a request for help. Now go, fly swift."

He turned back to the vrykuls, whom had already closed half the distance. Loud whooshes behind him told him that she was listening, and the sound retreated as she departed. Then he was alone with the vrykuls.

The party reached him, fanning out to surround him in a half ring. Aurelius waited in a ready stance. Every part of his body felt tight then, like a string pulled to its very extremity and about to snap. Despite his tension, his limbs were steady as his breathing. He stared grimly into the eye holes of each helmet, challenging them to attack him.

One of the Shield-Maidens spoke out with a low chuckle, "Ek thekki hann. Fara a, braethur! Ek mun sja um hann."

Grunts acknowledged her. Vrykuls withdrew their weapons from his direction to continue their march northward, all but the woman that had spoken. Take care of him, would she? Alone?

The dark eyes watched him for a long moment, hefting her axe in wait. The weapon was flipped and caught by the handle, backwards, and no longer held menacingly. "Ek veit at spjoti. Ek veit at andlit." Her shield hand reached up to her helmet, dragging it away so that bright crimson hair unfurled from its confines. Silver eyes with dark paint around them beheld him openly, her face neutral. "Muna eftir mer?"

Aurelius noticed his heart fluttered in its already frantic pace. He couldn't feel any relief, but there was some elation. Carefully, he said, "Ek muna eftir ther. Yngvildr."

Thick vrykul lips slid into a familiar smirk. _"Ek MAN eftir ther._ You have much to learn still, Aurelius." The helmet was tossed to the grassy bluff, hitting hard. Her axe spun again, to be caught with the head facing him once more. There was a dark pleasure in her voice as she growled, "I've been waiting for this day. _Ert thu tilbuin?"_

"You want me dead?" he asked hollowly, settling himself deeper into his stance. He'd felled vrykuls before.

Her red-framed face twitched, as if not expecting that reply. Her smile faltered. "Gleymist, Aurelius?"

It was hard to think like this, to remember that river-side meeting from several months ago. Did he forget? Forget what? That she wanted to challenge him in combat? Or was there something else...?

The smile faded entirely, and her dark eyes had a different look to them. _"Sama._ I will beat you here and take you for my slave." One of her large feet stomped the ground, and she roared out fiercely. Then she charged at him, axe and shield ready.

Whatever hovered at the tip of his brain evaporated with his first thrust, committing himself to the fight. Her shield deflected it effortlessly, clearing her for a wide sweep of her handaxe. Aurelius threw himself back, out of range, and he thrust again the moment he landed, nearly scoring a nick along her thigh.

Another furious sound heralded her approach, and this time her size was used, taking the spear in the shield before bashing him with it in the same motion, sending Aurelius tumbling back. His dazed mind flashed images of a naked Yngvildr, from the brush at the river, and the worgen they had battled.

His eyes cleared to see her coming again, her silver orbs bright like lightning. She sought to stomp on him, but he rolled aside, alighting himself for a kneeling thrust. The spearhead rent along the back of her calf, cutting away the straps that held her leg plate on, and ruby blood spilled from the line. The injured leg still braced her weight for her to turn, and the good leg snapped out for a powerful kick, sending Aurelius reeling once more, his spear knocked away.

Shaking his head of it, Aurelius felt his body responding to the rough treatment. He scrambled up before she could reach him again, spotting his spear and diving for it. He could hear the thundering steps behind him, and he got the spear and turned to engage the same instant. He kept his stabs light, clicking off the shield but not sticking, allowing him to attack again and again, keeping her at distance.

Yngvildr was not amused, but neither was she able to knock the weapon aside hard enough to open an opportunity. He started aiming lower, at each leg, until he gouged her tan thigh on a lucky strike, and she presented the opening to give its match on the other. The Shield-Maiden cried out with each wound, sounding more angry than hurt, and she stepped as if to kick him away like he was a stone. He retreated at a measured pace, stabbing smoothly without accuracy, and her shinguard caught the head harmlessly.

His mind kept track of the fjord edge, and he paced away quickly, not desiring his back against it. He needed mobility and nimbleness.

Pacing sideways, keeping her body facing his, Yngvildr assessed their situation as blood slid down her legs. She also came to the conclusion that her handaxe was unwieldy against his quick spear, and she tossed it behind her. With only her shield and her hands, she kept her body ready. That face of hers was wild with bloodlust and rage – absolutely frightening from the giants.

She came fast and hard, shield ready for his spear and her momentum not slowing at first impact. Too late Aurelius realized her intent to tackle him, and her massive frame slammed into his, taking his footing. Her freed hand caught him, then flung him up off the ground only to whip back against her fingers as she slammed him into the grass.

The leather armor could only absorb so much, and Aurelius realized only after that he'd completely lost his spear somewhere in the commotion. His hand found the wood hilt of his hunting knife, just as her massive hand clamped down over him, pressing like she was to squash a bug.

The pressure was immediately unbearable, enough that he thought his ribs were already cracking. Crying out, he struggled as much he could and managed to slid that knife out. Its sharp edge couldn't cut through her glove or bracer the first strike, and seeing its presence enraged the giantess. Lip curled, she instead threw him aside, a good ten yards.

Aurelius hit hard, but he quickly realized that was the least of his worries. Gasping, he rolled to his left, feeling the dagger move around his insides. His right hand had managed to keep the blade, only to land right on top it. Worse was that his fingers were numb, crushed between his weight and the hilt, and they might be broken.

Steeling himself, he tugged the blade out of his hip and let himself bleed. He had no time to ride the pain; Yngvildr was already upon him again. Knife shaking in his fist, he steadied it with his left hand and thrust against the reaching glove. Her hand retreated in time, and she glowered at his fight. The vrykul lifted her shield arm, clearly intending to pound him into the ground.

Aurelius threw himself aside, rolling over the grass, but he found a good angle to start lifting himself. The shield was already dragging his way, he found, so he desperately flung himself towards her, out of its path, and the wind passed over and behind him audibly. With her body bent awkwardly for the low strike before him, he found his chance to plunge the dagger into her belly.

Her elbow crashed into his head hard enough to have his ears ringing and body stunned. The dagger left his fingers as he fell bonelessly back to the grass. When his eyes cleared, he saw Yngvildr standing tall over him, her hand over his knife – like a letter opener beside her hand. She slid it out, bringing the knife to her face and dragging it over her cheeks for its crimson paint.

"Your blood mixed with my blood," she growled down at him. "Your breath tangled with mine. Your strength testing mine. Are you worthy, Aurelius? Is a _human_ worthy?"

Blinking up at her, Aurelius found a stroke of luck at the hard shape against his back. He'd landed on his spear. Yngvildr tossed aside his dagger when her cheeks were painted, lip curling. Her leg lifted, ready to kick down. In the same instant, Aurelius whipped his spear up, not with a good hold but with what strength he could find. Its sharp edge found her inner thigh first. He could see the way her eyes flew wide as she noticed, but it was too late, and the slash was both deep and wickedly long. Vrykul blood sprayed over him.

As her grounded leg, she lost her balanced and pitched. The vrykul had quick reflexes for catching her immense mass, and she staggered into a slow caricature of a fall until she was on her hands and knees, gasping out her pains. Aurelius shook off the last of his daze and dragged himself upward. He had reached a position akin to hers when her head flipped up suddenly, glaring between red tresses. Her left hand made a fist under the buckler.

He didn't give her the chance to strike him, instead leveling the spear between them and thrusting awkwardly at her strong, unarmored side. It connected cleanly, eliciting another pained hiss from her. He shoved until she lost her balance, pitching entirely on her side now, and the fall slid the spearhead out poorly, tearing the hole wide.

They were both breathing hard, limbs shaking with each raging, adrenaline-flooded surge of blood. Red drops fell from his spearhead, a décor surprisingly present on both their bodies for such a short scuffle. Yngvildr remained on her side without further aggressions, trying unsuccessfully to cover both of her greater injuries.

There was a pained, dissatisfied laugh from the giantess as her sharp grey eyes glared at him. "I would have... _Ek hefthi..."_ A sharp inhale, but her words came no clearer: "Aurelius, _ek var_ ready to..."

It came to him finally, as he knelt close to the fallen vrykul. The words she said here, the quip she had said back then. He remembered. In his similarly broken and battered state, Aurelius remembered his victory then, his words then, her words then. Things he hadn't understood yet things he had hoped for.

"Fuck," he groaned, but his tongue and voice worked no better than hers. Spitting out blood, his mouth bitter and numb, he tried again, breathlessly, "What the fuck, Yng?"

Her eyes were narrow upon him, so he tried again, dropping his spear to stagger closer. "You..." He fell against her side, using her shoulder for a brace as he knelt beside her head. "You damned idiot... Yngvildr."

This savage, insane, ridiculous fool of a vrykul, she had told him to challenge her for her arm, back in their first meeting. He had hoped it meant something similar to asking a human woman for her hand. And this blood-thirsty bitch had wanted it in a trial of combat, in the pitch of strength and steel. In a steadier mind, Aurelius would want nothing from such a woman, not after she so fiercely attacked him. Right now, high on the fight and adrenaline, hurting and anxious, he found only powerful wants.

Light, he had a hole in his hip, stuck deep by his own knife, and she fared even worse. So pointless, so stupid. "Vrykuls are such idiots," he growled, a real heat to his voice. "The men, the women... So why are you so damn...?" His fingers curled and made a meaty thump against her bare shoulder; it was like punching bone. "Ekki gleymist."

Those soft eyes blinked at him, clear orbs on a grimy face. Her lips moved slowly. "You remember? Then you don't-" Something caught in her throat, leading to a wet cough. It ended in a bitter smile. "I see. I am a fool then."

"Nei," he snapped, curt. "Not for thinking that, because I would fucking ravage you at the chance." His torn side seemed to spasm from speaking, flaring white-hot pain. He made a stifled sound at it, beginning to pant again. Her eyes were heavy on him, seeking his meaning, urging him to grit his teeth through the fire and growl, "You're a fool because I _can't_ ravage you now."

A breathless bark of laughter passed her throat, and her teeth shined up at him. He could almost share her humor, but his adrenaline was dropping as quick as the blood from his side. Small tremors began to seize his muscles. Glaring at her bright eyes, on the verge of collapsing to the same position, he asked tightly, "Well? Does this satisfy you?" He sucked in another short breath. "Because I damn well better have your "arm" for this."

Her usual smirk was marred by her own pain, but she agreed in a firm voice, "Ja, Aurelius. Ek em thin."

"Say it again," he demanded, grabbing at her woolen cloak near the buckle. His head felt light, fuzzy. He needed to be sure.

Her eyes flashed with challenge, with pleasure. She hissed, "Ek. Em. Kona. Thin."

There was so much blood on the grass around them, dripping from his boots to meet that from her abdomen. Aurelius began to wonder if he'd even manage to recover his pack and bandages in time. In this state, his mind echoed her words in her own tongue: _Yngvildr er kona min. Min kona._ Aloud, he swore, "I damn well can't die then. Not yet."

His limbs were sore and taxed, and it almost seemed beyond his ability to force himself back to unstable feet. He finally shoved his hand against the bore in his side to stem the flow, then swept his eyes around without really seeing. It took a long moment to spot his bag, then he was inching towards it with a splattered trail of red.

Rather than reach down, he let himself fall beside the pack, then used his left hand to rummage inside. His potion was gone, that much he knew, so his numb fingers felt around for the curl of heavy bandages. He found a set and ripped the pin out with his teeth, letting it unfurl. He wavered at the last second, but holding his breath, he finally let his right hand fall from the wound so he could press the bandage to it. It hurt and tingled simultaneously, and it took all his strength just to keep contact.

Only once the pain reduced to a dull throbbing did Aurelius move again, even to just breathe. He needed his armor off to truly let the magic work, as it worked off of skin contact. Gently pulling the bandage's end out of the hole in his armor, he forced his lethargic hands to work at the buckles until he was peeling the wet leather off him.

While winding the bandage around his stomach and ribs – which by his shortness of breath he knew were damaged – his eyes remained on the downed giantess some yards away now. She was in worse condition than him, with those deep punctures along her thigh, in her belly, and in her side, much like his. But as a vrykul, bleeding out was a slower process, if no less fatal. He must first see to himself, so he could then see to her. _His_ her.

The reminding thought sent a weak laughter through his aching chest. What an ugly culture, but how simple it was to get what you want in it. Oh, Light, was this really happening?

With the end tucked, Aurelius found it easier to move around. He recovered a few more bandages and shuffled back to Yngvildr. Settling down before her with the bandages, he had a sudden flashback of that huntress Brynja. The thought had him hesitate – hadn't they parted in a similar manner? Would she do the same if they met again? If she returned, what would _he_ do?

"Hvath er rangt?" she asked.

It was the first time Aurelius had heard "rangt," but he felt he knew it from context. Shaking his head, he resumed his work, unrolling the bandage and starting just behind the hole on her left side. He left his palm flat over the wound with it, similar to what he'd done for himself. Wet blood stuck to his hand, only serving a fresher reminder.

"There was a woman, a few weeks ago," he admitted while waiting. "Brynja het vrykul."

"Thin?" He felt the word vibrate through her skin.

"Nei." He leaned forward and started, urging her upright – careful of her thigh – so he could wind it around her. Once she was sitting, he added, "But maybe she wants to be."

"En thu?"

His eyes turned up to hers, but under that gaze, his jaw flexed without answer and he shied away, turning back to the bandage. Aurelius uttered, "You are not the only fool here. _En ek em mathr thin, nei?_ " He ducked under her arm to wrap around her. In return, Yngvildr said nothing as he passed around her back, and nothing as he returned to her front. Peeking at her face, he saw a haughty vrykul smile waiting, but still she offered no response.

He finished bandaging her stomach shortly, covering both holes and securing it. It was when he grabbed another for her thigh wound that Yngvildr finally replied. First it was motion, bringing her hands down to her thick war skirt, then she said, "First, let us see if I can't make you forget her entirely." As she spoke, she dragged the hem upwards and scooted herself to make way.

Aurelius' mouth went dry as the vrykul hiked up her skirt to her bandaged waist, revealing herself to him from the hips down. She wore nothing beneath that article, showing only the seamless flow of tan skin from strong leg to flaring hip and the utterly conspicuous red-tangled mound of her womanhood, not totally shrouding the folds of her sex from his bugging eyes.

" _Eptir_ that," she drawled, dragging her hands over her hips and thighs, "if I fail that challenge, then bring her to me, and _vit_ _Brynja_ will speak." The long fingers of her right hand stopped before her slash, reminding Aurelius that he was supposed to be helping her, not just watching. Swallowing his already parched throat, he nodded absently and carefully peeled his eyes from her mound. He was almost surprised to find the bandage still in his hand.

A cool-eyed, smirking Yngvildr left herself exposed as he began to wrap her leg. Aurelius started slower than he intended, consistently failing to keep his attention on task, until in a fit of frustration, he quickly wrapped the rest around the thick thigh and pinned the end in place.

With it finished, the vrykul let her leg down, close to his left side, and her left leg closed around his right, holding him gently between those powerful limbs and still bare from knee to navel. Magic extinguished, she began to unwind the blue weave from her waist then slyly asked with eyes twinkling, "Would you have me here, on the open fjord? There is nowhere so beautiful, nowhere so natively _vrykul_ except in the grasps of a longhouse."

She finished removing those bandages from her stomach, then picked at his, leaving his chest bare. His hands made uncertain fists atop those flanking thighs, her right still wrapped in blue. "Yngvildr, I... I'm not sure... that..." He trailed off, unable to even finish his thought.

Her skin was warm, feverishly so. He knew that of vrykul already, but here, shirtless with the icy Northrend gales, with her hot-skinned thighs around him, it was pleasant as the night's campfire. Long without the adrenaline high and passion of battle, he was content to sit with her like this, if not for the lewd show she was flaunting for him. He wanted her like an animal with the scent of a dripping, juicy steak. Yet, he didn't want her here, not like this and not so suddenly.

All the way down to his bones, it didn't feel right. And that was from him, who found this woman and her body literally perfect.

"It's your first time, no?" she asked, and it sounded kindly, even excited. He saw her hands drag up her short chain and leather breastplate to spill out that excessively bountiful chest with fat, mahogany areolas. He finally closed his eyes against it, against a shudder of want, not knowing what else to do, while she revealed, "Mine too."

Her voice was charged, lively and eager. "My kin will slander and mock me for giving myself to a small one, but your words rang so strong to me. I will spur them like you spur yours, for I am filled with queer lusts. Perhaps not perfect, but you are both soft and _garpr,_ and you speak loosely with affections. I will give myself to human softness, and that _Brynja_ does not ache for a human, for you, as I do."

Oh, Light! Aurelius realized he was making claws against her thighs now, raking harder down them with each word. But by the Light, Yngvildr just admitted he had given her a _human fetish._ The absurdity couldn't erase the implications: there was no reservation or distaste from her over taking a human to bed. She might wish for it as he could only dream of. She might even forgive him for his size.

Aurelius' eyes finally opened when vrykul-warm fingers touched his chin, stripped of glove, and he was beholden to her once more, heart hammering and an arousal straining his forbearance as it strained his leggings. He looked past it all to her face and her eyes, which could not have been more inviting if she spread her legs for him. Grin stretched crassly, she purred with a smokey drawl, "I have a fire in me only a cold-skinned human can douse."

There were no _words_ to respond to a comment like that. Aurelius would blush, except he felt the same. He'd call it tacky, if his chest didn't swell with further desires. This all felt beyond his control now – his body, too, beyond his control. The expired bandage on her thigh was torn by his raking fingers, showing skin beneath as she flexed those strong, feminine legs on either side, considerate of his presence between them.

"Yngvildr," he managed speaking finally, a growl so low in his throat it did not sound as if from him. His right hand shamelessly took up the chance to rub over her smooth, blazing hot inner thigh, retreating back just before the apex. He stopped it further by curling his fingers again, fists making impressions against her taut, bawdy flesh. "I... _can't."_

Her bright, shining expression began to wane, but he wasn't finished, pushing himself up between those heavy thighs so that he was standing. His manhood _hurt_ in its leather constraints, outlined clearly and obscenely against his leggings for all to see. Reaching forward, he seized her thick skirt and tore it back down, to cover her from him. He was only partly successful, yet he also stepped out of her legs, towards her torso and confused face.

His expression must have been furious as stepped right up to her head. Aurelius didn't care, for he was furious – or something close to it. His approach did not cease, not until his head collided against hers at the lips, and all his passion poured from him into her in a searing moment, trusting her steadiness as he fell into her torso. Yngvildr lagged in her reply, but it came slowly and surely, kissing back as only first-timers can.

A fistful of her ruby hair was twisted in his hand when he parted from her addictive lips, not yanking but firm in his hold. Her eyes flashed lightning at him, wide and wild but watching, while he finished proclaiming, "I can't _resist_ you. So stop, damn you. Not here. Not yet. I'm _begging."_

Still with that challenging look, her perfectly lush lips parted to retort, and he smothered it under another passionate kiss. She moaned against his mouth. Refusing to sit idle finally, Yngvildr leaned back against him, freeing her hands to come to his shirtless body with their fiery touches. She clutched him to her.

Aurelius would not arrest himself until the beast was out of him, and in the throes of their fire, it seemed content where it was. Eventually, however, his body won out, simply too weak from their brawl and the treatment of their passion. Losing balance, he finally fell to the grass, gasping breathlessly. He stared up at the still partially-exposed vrykul, at her flushed cheeks and swelling lips. Her eyes were like soft silver daggers pinned to him, intense and transfixed, while she panted under her own passions.

He had a half-second of warning, seeing those plump lips twitch towards a delighted grin, right before she dropped herself atop him – not with weight, but with great presence, their lips locked again and the sweltering heat of her great bosom felt against his stomach.

A dreamlike laughter passed from his lips into hers, as Aurelius let himself be overcome by the stronger woman. His hands ran through her wild hair, fingers dragging along her scalp, until he hadn't the energy to keep them up. Yngvildr's tongue had invaded his mouth to the throat in a sensation he couldn't believe, dominating him in his weakness like so much of her.

It was electric, and it was a dream. A final flick marked her tongue's sudden parting, and then wet, searing kisses made a trail down his jaw and throat, to his chest, nipple, navel. Her chin grazed his manhood when she bit into the leather waistline of his pants, tugging at it between her teeth in a will-shattering tease, finally releasing it unmolested, to his dissatisfaction.

"Yngvildr, please," he breathed, and he wasn't sure if he was urging her to stop or to continue. She returned that smug grin of hers, knowing her effect on him. Low and sensuous, she crawled back up by hand and foot, her nipples skimming his bare chest like warm pebbles.

She ended with hands on both sides of his head, like she meant to crush it, only to kiss him slowly instead. It was a gesture of simmering passion, and she withdrew shortly from it. Whispering, she divulged, "I know not what a human waits for, but my kin will return. You must take me far away before then, or else hide beneath my long skirt to find my own bed unseen."

Her hands eased to his shoulders, then down to his forearms, until finally she pulled his hands to the her breasts, still pert and impudent beneath the skewed armor. Aurelius swallowed. His hands cupped the soft flesh, moving hesitantly to learn and explore the vrykul bust. She took no further notice, resting her hands over his in silent encouragement while she watched his face.

"I wait," Aurelius muttered, distracted, "because I crave your body... but I don't want you for your body." His eyes flicked up to hers, suddenly self-conscious. "Does that make sense?"

"Ja. Thu ert vitr," she acknowledged. Her lip twitched towards amusement; hands still on his, she drawled, "En, ek em kona thin. Thin, Aurelius."

He exhaled at her reminder, at the possessive way her hands tightened over his. "That a man could be so lucky," he whispered beneath his breath. Yet she must have heard, by the blushing smile that blossomed in the wake.

With an air of initiative, Aurelius' thumbs left the buttons of her nipples – removed his hands entirely, even – and left them more chastely on her bare thighs before proclaiming, "No matter what the future holds for us, be it together, or with our peoples, or otherwise, tonight I will have you, Yngvildr. South, in the privacy of the woods, where not even the gods can disturb us."

"Anywhere you take me, I would go gladly," she whispered back. Her smile was affectionate, absent of vrykul hardness or malice. It was a look Aurelius had never experienced so directly from a woman, elating his heart and spreading a unique warmth inside his chest. He returned it with a pleasant shyness.

The moment passed with Yngvildr finally tucking her bosom back under her leather top, fixing the article, and with an understanding of the urgency needed before her comrades patrolled back. Aurelius rose with an enthusiastic heart, about ready to race down to the nearest tree and jump atop the vrykul to continue, but as his mind began to rule over passion, he found himself looking west, over the fjord edge to the ocean beyond. Res'sha, his short companion, was finally gone and without a proper farewell.

Yet that void hadn't even begun to show itself before another claimed her place in his life, one becoming of his palate and one who threatened far more than a roadside bump. _Kona thin,_ he remembered her promising. _My woman, my wife._ That perfect giantess was ready to give herself to him completely. Glancing away from the ocean and the wind, he saw the Shield-Maiden waiting there, watching him with a sly little smile on her lips. The blood from their spat had dried into a dark splotch on her light-colored leather, but it led him to another thought.

With a wry drag of his hand against the blood flecked over his face, he suggested, "We're going to need a bath."

"And a feast," she remarked brightly, "to build up our strength."

"And a feast before it," he agreed, putting his back to the ocean. "And a big, vrykul bed, and a rest, and a long talk too after it all."

Her body language changed to match his, feet spreading to shoulder width and her palm resting atop the sheathed axe head. It was a stance as solid as her warrior body, accompanied by a raised eyebrow. _"Eptir?_ You plan long into the future, _eiginmathr."_

Aurelius chuckled at her cheek. Shaking his head, he collected his armor and pack, mentioning, "It's a ways to the nearest forest. It'll be a damned miracle if I can keep control of myself until then." Finding his armor too bloody to want to wear, he stuffed it away, exchanging it for an underused cloak.

Together, they disappeared southward, away from the fjord, from her kin, from Res'sha, from the world.


	5. Chapter 5

Considering their great size, Aurelius always presumed the vrykul appetite to be a formidable attribute. Seemingly against natural order, they carried themselves swiftly, powerfully, and exhaustively across lands without losing vigor, so surely somewhere they must match expenditure with consumption. He witnessed it finally with Yngvildr, fueling a long day of patrolling the fjords and testing Aurelius in combat.

Almost grotesquely, a family of deer – buck, doe, and three fawns – were caught, butchered, and roasted by their experienced hands, comparing practices and tastes, then devoured between them. Aurelius thought himself bold in his portions, helped by berries and sweet milk, yet it was Yngvildr that cleaned a haunch of its meat in a single bite, ribs pealed as though by wire, and even cooked organs gulped down by that vrykul palate.

But that fireside meal was spent concerning themselves more with each other than the food, a tangible buzz in the air marking their excitement, and Aurelius almost growled his impatience when Yngvildr insisted on returning the bony remains to the earth before bathing, burying them before the onset of carrion or its feeders.

The sun skimmed the tops of the trees when they entered the nearby river. Admittedly, Aurelius' concern was less for the icy water than for the woman that stripped down after him. Her naked torso bent to slide her war skirt down those bronzed legs, and upon rising, Yngvildr deliberately uncrossed her arms from herself with a smile. "Familiar, isn't this?"

"Nei," Aurelius replied. Against the knee-high water already numbing his feet, his manhood began to stir at the sight. Swallowing, he took a step back towards the pebbled shore. "Tha, Ek vil sa- vil at sja..." Cursing his clumsy tongue, he managed, "Back then, I wanted to _see_ you." His hand sought her larger one, catching its burning warmth tenderly yet with a firm grip. He pulled her towards him and the water. Even still bloodied, he finished, "Now, I want to _touch_ you."

Standing barely high as the giantess' navel, Aurelius watched with steadfast eyes as Yngvildr sloshed into the river, keeping connected at the hand when she passed him to reach deeper waters. He followed until he was submerged to the waist, and his unyielding hold turned her back towards him at a depth only to her blood-streaked thigh.

"Aurelius," she cooed, her legs like planted oaks against the shoving current. "Then come and take your wants." Her hand pulled back, overcoming his footing as she continued towards the river heart.

Immediately, Aurelius was swept downstream, towards the orange-glowing sun, and only her firm grasp kept him from being carried away. Flailing was useless in that hold, so he only pulled himself towards her, keeping upright. Yngvildr's smile awaited him, sun-lit eyes fixed on his. Once her legs stopped moving, she turned to catch his smaller body between both arms, hugging him to her warm chest.

Compared to the scores of times Aurelius had subjugated himself to the arctic waters of Northrend, the hold was empyrean. His arms found her shoulders for support. Even buried to her armpits, Yngvildr was solid against the crushing waters, looking at him as if he were the only thing in her world. His spine was still tight with the chill, but against it and his short breath, Aurelius didn't hesitate to find leverage enough to reach her lips with his.

Yngvildr's mouth contorted with laughter as spun around once with him in her arms. Just when he thought her unwilling to reciprocate, the jovial woman tilted her head back against his and filled his mouth with her hot tongue. Different was the lingering taste of their dinner, but Aurelius paid it no real mind, clinging against her brazier-like heat in the frozen sea.

Though Aurelius refused to wrap his legs around her torso, finding the act vaguely feminine, his dangling feet suddenly found purchase against the tops of her braced legs, where they met pelvis. The position freed his hands to slide behind her head, kissing back adamantly and without submission. He realized without care that his cold-shocked erection was trapped between their bodies and pressing unmistakably against her chest.

Her hold no longer needed, Yngvildr's hands returned affections, rubbing up his shoulder blades and down his gooseflesh-marked sides. Her touch felt ecstatic.

When they finally paused for air, feeling even shorter of breath, Aurelius asserted lightly, "Your skin... is amazing. Like a satin bedside under pans. Like that first sweltering gust of cabin air when escaping a blizzard. I don't ever want to let go."

She laughed at him, but it was not unkindly. _"Gott._ You feel as though succumbing to death. I will warm you up." Her head dipped again, passing his mouth to reach his neck. Twin petals of fire branded him with their touch; there was heat and pain and a sudden surge of excitement like he'd never felt before. When she finished, seconds later, it was with twinkling eyes that she said, "You bruise like a babe. I will be tender."

"N-No," he retorted. His throat felt closed after that, but he needed this to be clear. Fingers digging sharply against the slabs of flesh between her neck and shoulders, he besought, "I can handle it. I _want_ it."

Her eyes seemed to flash. "And if I ask for human gentleness?"

"Then I will be as a flower, and my touch soft as silk."

"And for this, I give myself to you – not for dowry, not for greatness. For this," she professed. Holding him between her arms again, she leaned for a short kiss. It ended with her warm forehead resting against his, then she admitted, "I have watched my elders: vrykuls kiss rare as the moons pair in fullness; speak affections when winter brings hot winds; touch as we do never outside of the passion of the bed. And in the longhouses, I have never seen a vrykul move to give pleasure, only to take. Little slaves die under such care.

"I am vrykul, Aurelius. No human can make me less. But you drink from my lips like a man with eternal thirst, and this gives me pleasure. You cover me with so many sweet words I think I was naked before them. Your touch, Aurelius, _appreciates._ Exposed to this, I cannot be satisfied with the love of my elders."

Those soft words impacted Aurelius powerfully. So different were their reasons for seeking each other that he felt inadequate beside her, even guilty. Light, but didn't he just find the giantesses sexy? This was vrykul marriage to her, as they saw it, not some rut in the grass.

Aurelius looked at her strong-featured face – that beautiful, flawless face with its hanging red tresses – and his right hand touched one cheek, stroking along the feverish skin. Did he understand that? Didn't he? Isn't that why he had stopped her atop the fjord? Isn't that what he had hoped for when she said those words months ago?

Her cheeks were scarlet, he noticed, and it wasn't from the low sun. Her teeth showed in her embarrassed smile as she said, "These things I say, they are foolish. _Gleyma ek s-"_

Aurelius interrupted her with his lips. Her words still echoed in his head, her reasons, and thrust beside them were his own. Sure, he had a vrykul fetish. That was true. But why was he up here in Northrend, away from his people? Why did he wander the vrykul woods, tearing his body against monsters with no help, no friend or kin at his back? Why did he do it all?

Yngvildr's tongue sought his as their kiss persisted, but he nipped at it, withdrawing. He finally felt like the steadier of the two when he smirked at her blush. He said, "Not foolish, and I won't ever forget. Those are the exact words I needed to hear from you."

In truth, it was Aurelius who was a special sort of fool. Wasn't his reason of reasons, beneath the altruistic excuses, that he remained here for just the chance of meeting the fictional amazones made real? Unspeakably beautiful, giant warrior-queens, shaped like sculpted marble and forged in war? And didn't he, Aurelius, have the stupid, impossible hope that perhaps one day he'd impress one enough to take with him as a wife?

Their skin remained in full contact, their limbs tight with want. This was not whimsical. Aurelius couldn't do whimsical, and if Yngvildr felt the same wants as him, the same interracial yearnings, then that only sealed it for him.

Though he'd been in the freezing water far too long already, Aurelius kissed Yngvildr once more, and only after they were thoroughly enamored with each others taste and feel, their lips bruised and hearts rattling their cages as if to meet, only after did Aurelius urge her with audible need to finish washing.

The powerful giantess made an experience of it, holding him tight to duck under the strong currents. Strong golds and intoxicating purples skimmed the water top as they resurfaced, painting each drop upon them with its glistening color. Yngvildr strode closer to the shore, revealing better the half-washed remains of her wounds, and grin in hand, she deemed Aurelius responsible for cleaning his mess.

It was Aurelius' first and only reminder of Brynja that night. Then the thought vanished beneath hot vrykul skin and feminine muscles. All thoughts had vanished by the time he was stroking up her slashed thigh, and in their absence his hand did not cease its upwards glide until after leg became groin. Yngvildr encouraged his touch with voice and body language, then growled as he remained a hairsbreadth from her innermost fire, only skirting over the coarseness of her mound to the abs he had already worshiped liberally.

"Aurelius," she warned lowly, dangerously.

He paid it no mind, finally wrapping his arms around her legs, just beneath her buttocks, to pull her larger frame to his shallower water. A kiss was left just below her navel, where the muscle dipped in a womanly cusp. His view upwards was halted by the powerful swell of her bosom and the firm nipples that stood from it. Just barely, he noticed her silver eyes between the giant breasts, and he smiled impudently up at her, knowing of his position between her thighs.

They were finished here, he knew – and not a moment too soon, because his feet were totally numb beneath him. Aurelius guided her, walking backwards towards the river bank. Yngvildr noticed his intent. At once, she made forward around him, out of his arms and up the shore with steps heavy as his following were light. On the grass, she rounded, while Aurelius got his feet clear of the leeching waters, then stopped.

The final rays of sun remained behind them, but the radiance still showed her body to him indirectly, giving delicious detail with shaded down-light and water-slicked skin. The fists at her side told him there was more to her sudden response, a thought confirmed as she said, _"Horfthu a mik,_ Aurelius. This is all I can be. Vrykul down to my toes, big as trees, sometimes clumsy, sometimes boorish, but many times fierce. Look at me, Aurelius. You can accept?"

Aurelius didn't need to look, but he did so gladly, intently. But he needed to reply. He knew not poetry for her, but he settled with truth on his embarrassing tongue. "Every part of you, Yngvildr... Your truesilver eyes, your skin that burns like fire, the strong limbs that shape you... Light, your breasts, your hips, your voice, your accent – yes, your words, which have been considerate, and your heart, which is strong – every part of you is _perfect._ The perfect hunter. The perfect image. The perfect woman.

"I have already accepted, Yngvildr. I have fought and I have lived to accept nothing else."

This was a woman that felt each word. Aurelius could see it in her flustered smile and blushing cheeks, in the tension that coiled in her limbs. When he was finished, she stepped closer and reached to grab his hand. It was a grip like a vice, but her smile held him tighter. She said, _"Kom. Kom meth mer, Aurelius."_ He squeezed back, then let his shivering self be taken past the trees.

Again he wondered at their different reasons for being here, and he wondered if they were even different at all.

From their earlier feast, Aurelius learned of the considerable vrykul appetite. Moreso, he learned they must _surfeit_ their powerful desire to feed or else die. Indulgence – the relentless need to gratify their natural urges – was ingrained into their survival, into their being. Now, as he began to discover when Yngvildr led him to a cobbled bed of her cloak and his cot, other urges were obliged with the same intensity.

No sooner had Aurelius dried himself with a bit of rough cloth did Yngvildr sweep him into a tempest of hot flesh and dripping passion. He rose to the challenge of her lips, while helpless to the spider's clutches that dragged him down to that hasty bed. All too suddenly, her tongue escaped his mouth and the blazing presence retreated, leaving Aurelius laid out on the bed alone. His manhood remained tall and rigid between his legs, spurred to life as quickly as she had come.

Now the vrykul woman hovered a stride away, standing proud in all her naked glory. Her face was on fire, eyes watching him as fiercely as his were her. She saw him, studied his nakedness, then crouched to all fours. She crawled with slow reaches, breasts swaying close to his feet, then shins. Her head bowed to his thigh, and the wet burn that began to curve upwards could only be her tongue.

Aurelius was iron when she reached his shaft, and his breath hitched despite himself when her tongue began to drag up from the base. The entire way, her eyes still two chips of soft silver and watching him, mindless of the lewd show of her mouth on him. That searing tongue flicked off the tip, sending his body into a shiver of gooseflesh that was totally unrelated to the cold.

Licking her lips, Yngvildr drawled, "Thetta er gott?" She kept her head low, lips so near his pulsing member he could feel the breath.

"It's good," he breathed, almost inaudibly. He saw the knowing smile twitch by, then she dipped low to start again at the base.

This time, her tongue came with force, pushing his manhood down flat against his clenching abdominals, and her wide tongue enveloped it like a sheath, wearing upwards. His hands jerked from his sides to her hair, burrowing deep. His fingertips scraped against her scalp like he meant to hold her there, while she paid him no mind, eyes cast upon her task. Only at the tip did those pale rings flick upwards, between fallen red tresses, and he saw her smile even with her tongue still out.

Three more passes, Yngvildr repeated the same action, watching him, testing new waters, until she left him coated in hot saliva and then settled forward enough that her breasts mashed on his tensed stomach. His hardness remained achingly confined beneath her torso's weight.

"What more?" she questioned, sounding excited. "What more do you want?"

Now that she'd begun, Aurelius didn't want her to stop until he made a mess of her face! What an agonizing way to go about it. His breathing was irregular, but he was regaining control of himself, still tinging with new sensation. The yearning to finish slipped away, replaced by desires far more familiar to him. Lust's teeth sank deep in his heart, its venom surging through his blood. His sinew began to ache with the want to touch, to explore, to bring Yngvildr to pleasure. She alone did not have the right.

Chin resting nearly at his sternum, Yngvildr's smirk followed the motions of his hands, letting them drag through her still damp hair, skimming her ears on the way to her fevered shoulders. He pulled up on her, urging the heavy vrykul off him. She complied slowly, taking from him only her weight, like a cat's paw ready on a mouse.

"You," he finally replied to her searching face. It was a struggle to speak, but not from any physical constraint. "I want _you."_ It was purely mental. He wanted the chance – the opportunity – to bring his hands to her and his lips to her. The desires seized him like a madness now. The fingers curled under her arms continued downward, to the vrykul breasts only resting against his skin now with fire-like presence.

Like the animal she she struck him as, Yngvildr arched herself down firmly, trapping his arms between her chest and his hips. She kissed his chest, saying in between pecks, "It is not yet your turn, Aurelius." Her teeth nipped at his left nipple, eliciting a growl from him. The small hurt manifested only as passion; his hands squeezed their charges as a more physical response to the bite. "Will you fight me here too?" she cooed.

"You will not find patience in me here," he said so thickly he could have been choking. Swallowing offered no relief.

Sultry eyes watched him as she slid up to his ear to whisper, "Then I want to feel your desire for me – in your hands, in your words, in your cock." The vulgar slur sounded strange from her, but the thought was lost to him as she also took his member in her hand, enclosed like a warm vice after the chilly air. The saliva-slicked organ pulsed in her grip, sent a tremor through his smaller frame as her hand slipped upwards and back down.

"Like its in, no?" she purred.

Yngvildr's hair tickled Aurelius cheek in her current position. He still found her ear peeking free before his eyes, close enough that he could groan helplessly, "By. The. Light. Yngvildr..." A short inhale later, he craned up to nibble on her earlobe. Accidentally, he bit instead, aggravated by her hand clenching once in its motions. Her responding hiss only excited him further.

Despite the distraction, Aurelius hadn't lost his want to respond. The new position freed his hands to run wild over her body, from the firm softness of her breasts to the harder lines of her ribs and muscles. Only a thin layer of fat covered her musculature – more than his companion Res'sha, but not so much as to hide her strength in sunlight.

His fingers just began to roll her nipple when Yngvildr's hot breath left his ear to take his mouth with hers. Her tongue thrust out, and he met it eagerly, finding the slimy touch lewd in new ways with her hand on him so. Chest, breast, nipple, the breadth of her ribcage – Aurelius discovered it all of this woman, while her hand slowly masturbated him under that slick heat. Their lips continued against each other, a manifest of their actions.

Only when her hand chaffed against his sensitive manhood did it stop, a delay covered under Yngvildr's husky divulgence: "I am so hot inside, Aurelius. I ache with this heat. You must... must..." Their lips connected, then again when she tried to finish.

When she ceased trying, Aurelius let them separate, and he urged, "Open your legs to me. Let me."

Yngvildr listened without further complaint. She lifted herself from him, sitting herself down beside him. Aurelius followed her up, eyes intense upon the larger vrykul, barely illuminated in the dying fire light. His heart hammered and his loins throbbed, seeing her long, thick legs slide apart. Her powerful thighs split, stretching as her size would allow, and revealed a cream path to her dark-curled center. He could see her torso move with each breath, breasts rising and falling, and he wondered if it was nerves or anticipation clipping that motion.

On her thighs, near the apex, was a glistening smear, the only mark of feminine excitement he knew. Aurelius descended upon that wetness first, meeting fire with his (he supposed) human-cool tongue and lips. Similar to her earlier antics, Aurelius ascended her legs with lips and hands, touching along her sticky heat, until his nose and lips met coarse hairs.

Eagerness built in his chest then as Aurelius held back, turning his eyes fully onto Yngvildr's womanhood. He knew from harpies, especially Res'sha, the naked look of a woman's netherlips stripped bare of its natural cover. He disdained that baldness, but it guided his eyes to the engorged slit between the mess, the melting pot of her arousal. He could smell it in her, like a sweltering and intoxicating aroma. He lowered his head to her hot sex.

At the first sound, Aurelius nearly stopped. His eyes jolted upwards, up the great length of her mound, stomach, chest, neck – finally to her closed eyes. Yngvildr's thighs flexed around him, but they did not shut, nor did she look pained. Another tentative lick along the uppermost region of her folds elicited another gasp and a moan, sounds which reassured him of his actions here.

Slowly, curiously, Aurelius tasted up and down the outer parts of Yngvildr's slit. The taste was as inebriating as the scent suggested. His heart thundered with a mix of his own excitement and nervousness, unknowing of what gave her pleasure or not, but he made note of the bump of skin at the upper end which earned her voice. Finally, his hands left her thighs to join his mouth. Gentle as with petals of a flower, his fingers pulled apart the lips of her sex, revealing a hint of her innermost self, which his tongue was soon to continue upon.

After a short time of this, Aurelius spooked at the feel of hands suddenly coming to his head. But Yngvildr only caressed his hair futilely, then the reaches of his back, while her hips began a very slight but powerfully suggestive roll against his mouth. He almost wondered how he could ignore his own yearning erection under this, yet so drunk was he on Yngvildr that he couldn't give it further thought.

Once her hand settled against the back of his head with insisting presence, Aurelius looked back up to gauge her state – he found Yngvildr's eyes fastened upon him only in narrow slits, while her free hand restlessly prowled her perfect frame, frequently and provocatively stopping on her breasts to squeeze and fondle. It was a sight to make his heart skip, but he couldn't hesitate here, lest the magic of the moment also falter.

Aurelius began to notice that over time, pressure began to build around him. First it was only her hand, then her legs began to close around him, holding him to her, squeezing him between those strong limbs, and her stomach began to squeeze and squirm with both breath and oscillating tension – clench, relax; clench, relax.

"Au-Aurelius," Yngvildr gasped, the first time she muttered his name during it. Her facial features began to scrunch, eyes closing fully, while her mouth opened wide. A breathless sigh was forced between those lips, then another, and her breathing hitched right when everything flexed at once around him and her fingernails curled painfully against his scalp. The rolling hips only pressed against his face, and her wetness was manifold for his tongue, while a final deep moan marked its culmination.

It took Aurelius some time realize what had happened and why she stopped him so suddenly. It was accompanied by the realization that this could even _happen_ for women as it did for men, though clearly it was not precisely the same. Breathing hard, eyes opening to half-lidded slits, Yngvildr looked both worn and absolutely gorgeous at the same time. Her thick lips quirked into a little smile, before her confining hand grabbed him round and pulled Aurelius up to her torso. Her arms wrapped him in a snug hold, trapping him with her pillowing breasts.

Then Yngvildr began to speak in Vrykul, murmuring softly but ceaselessly, "A ek lika anaegju sem thu eins ok praell? Thu gerir thetta svo audvelt fyrir mik, Aurelius. Hvernig get ek stadist? Ek elska thik, ok ek er thinn. Satt ok at eilifu."

"Too much," he complained softly. "I have no idea what you're saying."

"You have made me happy, Aurelius." Her lips pressed to his forehead, punctuating her words. She finished with her chin resting atop his head, and her arms kept him fastened to her naked chest, skin flush with skin.

The words and touch penetrated Aurelius' uncertain calm, raising his spirits. He was glad to be a source of happiness for her, relieved that his human self could give her an orgasm, and content with the thought that he wouldn't be a strain on a relationship between them. Albeit, he still didn't understand why she pulled him away, why she retreated back to holding and affections just after the peak of her pleasure and intimacy.

But he let the matter go, finding his patience to be abundant while he drowned in the blissful skin of this vrykul's hug. She was soft where he needed, and warm like blankets. More importantly, he felt _wanted_ in her arms, a sensation he could revel in through the night, tomorrow, and every day after.

Yngvildr had no intention of waiting that long. He heard a drawn breath, and then there was motion once more, opening her strong embrace. Her large hands found his sides, while Aurelius tried looking up to see what was happening. Yngvildr had a soft smile, but her eyes were lit with fire, while she dragged him back down her larger frame until his knees touched the bedding.

Aurelius was back between her legs, staring up her flawless body. The hands which held him moved, one to his back and the other to his still rigid manhood, gripping it between fingertips. Without delay or preamble, word or warning, Yngvildr touched his tip to her wetness and pushed him inside to the hips.

The sensation took his breath awhile, hotter and better than the hand before. His vrykul lover, whom united them, exhaled slowly, and with the same smile, said, "The pleasure you have given me, I want you to take for yourself, from here. I will be selfish and share it, _husbondi."_ Her hands grasped his buttocks, squeezing.

Aurelius' hips were flush against the coarseness of her mound, his flexed stomach atop the fiery heat of hers. Though not fond of being groped along his rear, it prompted him to respond, sliding his hand up to her great breasts and squeezing back. His right hand remained upon her waist, caressing along the division with the hip and finding it a good hold to help move.

"It's not selfish, _kona,"_ he argued quietly. His fondling hand was firm under the sensations, feeling from her the same tension restless for motion. "It's-"

Yngvildr shushed him. "Less talk."

Blowing the rest of his breath through his nose, Aurelius agreed. His legs found a better position, allowing him to withdraw his hips easier. With a grip over her hip, he pulled back slowly, only to be assailed by the feeling of slick friction around his shaft. She was so hot inside he could melt, and when he was nearly out, the arctic air bit at his coated member.

With another breath, Aurelius sank back inside, nerves tingling in new ways at the feel of her inner walls parting to his hardness, to the lustful clenches of her hands at the pleasure. His hips met hers solidly, and he wished he could penetrate further inside, trying futilely. Did she feel as he did? Was his size an issue for her?

Aurelius couldn't know the answers to his doubts, but her hands told a story of their own, responding to each motion of his hips. He drew back and slapped his hips to hers, eyes catching the slight bounce sent through Yngvildr's body, mostly her breasts. She was a solid one, but not insurmountably so. He took another deep breath, and with both hands holding her hips, he began to move against her without pauses, keeping the contact between his manhood and her walls in ceaseless motion.

"Faster," she urged. Her tone captured his own emotions perfectly, husky and distracted and wanting. He obliged, finding a rhythm to it, while Yngvildr made a guttural sound of approval.

It was heaven. Aurelius remained in suspended amazement as his mind caught up with his actions. The feeling of being inside her, the wetness and _heat,_ the sight of it, of Yngvildr's face twisted in pleasure and her body rocking marvelously with each thrust. Her hands were all over him, sometimes his back, his head, his rear, but always touching and pulling, desperate for more. To be desired, to be able to fill that desire, to give pleasure as he got it... No words could capture this moment for him.

Yngvildr the vrykul shared this with him. Yngvildr his wife. She gave herself to him – gave him this moment, this night.

Aurelius wanted to kiss her, but his lips couldn't reach without her leaning forward. He gave himself to the only motion he could make, knowing it failed conveying his meaning but the fervor eliciting a pleased sigh and groan from her. Yngvildr's eyes refused to leave his, a connection even more powerful than her lips. Aurelius found himself meeting that stare more than witnessing her body. Those pale eyes, beautiful as they were expressive, and he could see everything he wished in those two silver rings.

His breathing began to labor, and Aurelius knew he was getting close to his inevitable end. He was surprised at how long he'd lasted already, considering the intensity of his arousal with this woman. Yngvildr seemed to realized it in his expression, for one of her hands left his back to reach her own rolling hips, and he saw her fingers rub at the same place atop her slit that his tongue had found so responsive.

"Meth mer," she panted. "Aurelius...!"

His hands were clawing at her sides now, just to keep his pace. Yngvildr moaned approval at the fierce tempo, cried his name, and by the tension of her legs he knew she must also be close. The way her womanhood clenched around him, the way her hips began to lift, confirmed it.

The moment came like a rising wave, unstoppable and with all fury. He kept his hips pounding against hers, releasing himself in her with each thrust, while Yngvildr's own climax was riding on the coattails by her sounds. His end wanted to suck away his energy, his manhood sending a ticklish jolt of complaint as he kept thrusting, but Aurelius couldn't stop until Yngvildr was the same.

Her breath hitched and shook on a few thrusts after, eyes closing while her fingers ripped at his back. Aurelius stopped at once with a great exhale, feeling spent, but he enjoyed watching the show of her orgasm. As her fierce tension began to relax, the hands which raked him began to rub instead, soothing the flaring cuts. Her eyes opened, looking tired and happy between her disheveled bangs, and her smile was like the sun, even in their dim lighting.

Aurelius pulled out, relieved that movement no longer tickled, and pitched himself over her right leg to rest beside her, close enough to kiss. Yngvildr turned over, throwing her warm leg and arm over him, and curled up close. Their lips met, slow and meaningful. Their first kiss since they became one, husband and wife.

No, Aurelius would not count such things. That wasn't his type. Still, the thought crossed, and it was like their lips sealed what they bodies had done. When they split apart, heads still close, he saw her eyes shined with the same brightness. He wanted to say something, whether to capture the experience in words or live up to her expectations. But he was distracted by her eyes, her lips, and she spoke first:

"A good start," Yngvildr purred. "And the night is still small."

Aurelius laughed, especially as her left hand took hold of his softened manhood, trying to coax it back. Of course. That vrykul appetite. He felt himself responding to her touch, but just as her lips smiled in notice, he stole another kiss with her hand still around him.

Shortly into the kiss, she finished rolling atop him, straddling his thighs. Exhaling, Aurelius realized her weight wasn't as bad as he was expecting of a giantess. Yngvildr bit his tongue at its entry, breaking the kiss entirely to tower over him with an eager grin. Her hand still pulled gently at his length, standing just before her womanhood now.

Aurelius rubbed his hands over her thick legs, watching the vrykul woman. His expression must have matched hers. "You look good up there. Let's see what you can do."

Smiling sheepishly, she retorted, "Shut up." Her hips raised, lining over his shaft, and she settled down, plunging him back in that velvet heat. His fingers clawed down her thighs, then curled around to grasp handfuls of her derriere like she had before. Settling one large hand over his chest, Yngvildr murmured, "I look good everywhere."

Her eyes sparked bright when meeting his, her smug look in full force. "Yes, you do," he agreed entirely. "You are perfect."

In reply, Yngvildr bit her lip, trying to not look embarrassed. Then her hips began to rock over him, bringing back that sweet friction between them. And like that, the night continued.

Perfection.

* * *

AN: And there it is. I forget how long ago I wrote this. The end of 2014, at least. I know that it started in my compilation document, C, but I moved it because I started liking it enough to post. As a matter of fact, I think the only reason I wanted to post it was because of this chapter. I really enjoyed writing, and subsequently reading, their interactions throughout. There's not really an overarching plot to this story though, so I'm pretty sure I'm having it end right here. I'm sure there's more to said about Brynja, Res'sha, etc., but I've moved on. This is a fitting ending point.

The one other thing I want to mention is how wonderfully superficial this relationship is. From my perspective, both parties, Aurelius and Yngvildr, took the easy way out by choosing each other. For example Yngvildr, she delights in verbal and physical affections, and this human comes along offering it so she just jumps at the chance. It's just _easier_ than finding a vrykul man that might offer the same. Aurelius wants a vrykul woman, and he finds out he wins one with a few sweet words, so bam, he's sold. What do they know about each other? Practically nothing. Impulsive. Superficial. Fragile. I love it.

Anyways, I hope anyone who read this has enjoyed the story, and I apologize for the inevitable Old Norse mistakes. As I've continued learning, I have continued finding mistakes, which means, I'm sure, there are more to come. Here are the (very brief) notes that forged this story, tacked to the bottom of the document for my reference:

-"...any woman who makes savage her body"

-Aurelius

-Yngvildr, Brynja, Res'sha


End file.
